Erase and Rewind
by Linnie22
Summary: Finally together, what could possibly go wrong? DL angst and fluff, roughly in that order. Rating bumped up.
1. May 2009

_**May 2009**_

Staring at Danny's dripping form, Lindsay wondered what she'd done to deserve this. He looked beautiful, earthy, like an old rendering of Adonis, despite the jeans and leather jacket. His eyes were locked on hers as the water slid down from his drenched hair and across the planes of his face. He was so exquisite her heart ached, and her fingers swelled with the need to touch him. Surely she must have committed some horrific, unspeakable karmic crime to bring her to this moment.

Everyone was silent as Danny remained lodged in the doorway, half in, half out of the room, his chest heaving in exertion. The whole lab had caught its breath at his entrance, trapped by the intensity of his expression. Even Flack seemed at a loss as to just what Danny thought he was doing, and Lindsay knew Flack understood Danny better than Danny understood himself—recent interpretive blunders not withstanding

Water ran in rivulets over the worn leather of Danny's jacket, dripping into the already soaked denim of his jeans. The room stood frozen, waiting for any sign that he hadn't turned into a living statue, eyes forever trained on Lindsay.

She could feel Stella next to her, muscles tensed, unsure what to think of Danny abruptly bursting into the room all of ten seconds—or maybe an eternity—before. Lindsay wanted to reach out and touch Stella, assure her friend that everything was all right; Danny didn't have the power to sweep everything away that he once had. But the words didn't carry the ring of truth they would have just moments before, and it was a moot point anyway. Lindsay had turned to stone even if Danny had not.

The pain was still there, worse when she looked at him, but it had faded after all this time to a much softer misery. She would no doubt carry it through the rest of her life, a constant companion to the warmth of his memory. She supposed everyone who'd been in love and lost had felt this ache—an amalgam of the barely remembered happiness and its echoing cry of what could have been.

Danny stepped forward into the lab, followed by a waft of rain, and Lindsay felt the whole world click into focus. The clean smell New York rain produced as it washed away the humidity swept over her, swirling through her senses as Danny's eyes darkened to a deep blue, and she knew she'd always associate the scent with him now. One more memory that would forever be intertwined with Danny.

Frustration welled inside her. This day was no different than the day before. She'd woken, showered, dressed, come to work, all with the knowledge that she wouldn't see Danny. It had been a relief, a temporary reprieve from the constant reminder of what she would never have.

So why did looking at him in this moment make her heart pound, her eyes sharpen? She'd killed this hope off long ago, the night Danny walked out of her apartment—or maybe the night of the wedding, but really did it matter? It had been a choice she'd made not to let herself dream of a day he'd change his mind, a kindness she'd done herself for the last year. And now it was thrown away with one look. A glance. A winded man staring at her as though she were the only thing in the room.

He stopped again, looking uncertain and vaguely afraid. Her heart started to race and her breath hitched as he opened his mouth. Her body strained forward, every atom of her being focused on the corresponding atom of his.

Then he spoke and the world stopped.

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A.N. The first real chapter should be up in a couple of days. Let me know if anyone is interested in being a beta for this story. And don't forget to sign the DL support letter! ( 


	2. December 2007

A.N. Thanks to scoob2222 for beta-ing this chapter!!

_**December 14, 2007**_

Lindsay smiled for the camera, shaking first the hand of the Chief of Police and then the mayor, all the while wishing she could stick a finger under her collar and tug. The heat in the room was oppressive, despite the foot of snow outside City Hall, and her dress uniform was inexplicably made of wool. The idea of putting it on in the middle of a New York summer was ridiculous. Whoever designed it had obviously never had to wear the damn thing.

Finally, though, the torture was over; the endless parading in front of the cameras, glorifying an act she hadn't even considered, finished. How could it be brave if she'd done it without thinking? But Mac was proud and Danny was sitting next to him, so Lindsay did the prancing pony bit with a silent tongue and a polite smile. And, after a lifetime under the sweltering lights, she stepped down from the stage and followed the path the audience had been allowed to take nearly fifteen minutes prior.

Pushing open the door to the assembly room, Lindsay let out a relieved smile when she spotted Jen leaning against the wall. "Hey," she called, pulling her hat off and slipping her finger under one of the sharper pins holding her hair immobile on her head.

"Look at you," Jen said, straightening with her wide smile. "All grown up and getting medals."

Rolling her eyes, Lindsay tucked the hat under her arm. "Let's get out of here. Please. I feel like they're going to run after me."

Jen raised an eyebrow. "For what? More photos?" Glancing nervously over her shoulder, Lindsay just shrugged, making Jen snicker. "Paranoid, Monroe?"

"Why I'm good at my job," she muttered, biting back a smile.

"Don't worry," Jen said reassuringly. "They got enough of your ugly mug."

Lindsay grinned, relaxing for the first time all day. "You hungry?"

"Why? We gettin' lunch?"

"I was thinking Joe's."

Jen whistled, mock-impressed. "Going out twice in one day. Danny's making a party girl out of you."

"Funny. Twice?" Lindsay questioned as she pulled open the door to the frigid tundra that was New York in December. They paused to put on their coats.

"You, Danny. Sullivan's. Ringing any bells?"

Lindsay shot her a quelling look. "Yeah, for drinks. Alcohol does not count as food, Jen."

"It doesn't?" Jen asked, suddenly sounding distracted.

Following Jen's eyes, Lindsay looked over her shoulder and saw Stella, Danny and Mac waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. Jen had been waiting alone—again—and Lindsay stifled a sigh, knowing any reassurances on her part would be met with a placating "Of course. Chill, Monroe."

But she couldn't "chill." Not when Jen was so convinced the team hated her for something that was in no way her fault. Lindsay had been the one to jump in front of that bullet; it had been her choice and her choice alone. When she made this argument, however, Jen claimed that there wouldn't have been a bullet to jump in front of if she hadn't been at that junkie's apartment in the first place. If Jen had heeded Lindsay's warnings, refrained from provoking him, Lindsay wouldn't have spent nearly a week in a coma.

Jen refused to see it any other way, and it drove Lindsay insane.

"Why don't I meet you back at the precinct in an hour?" Jen murmured as they started down the stairs.

"What about Joe's? I'm starving," Lindsay said, attempting to sound casual.

"You're always starving. I need to turn in some paperwork."

"The captain's probably not even back yet," Lindsay argued, knowing it was useless. "You know how those high-profile types like their celebratory meals."

"I'll leave it on his desk." At Lindsay's mulish expression, Jen's smile relaxed a fraction. "Okay, fine. Half an hour."

Lindsay sighed as Jen started to back away. "Half an hour."

Jen nodded to the waiting group still a good five yards away. Then she sloughed herself off like unwanted skin, leaving Lindsay to close the remaining distance alone.

As soon as she looked at them, the trio grinned. Rather, Danny grinned, Stella grinned, and Mac smiled his quiet, closed-mouth approval. "Congratulations," Stella called as Lindsay got closer.

"Thanks." The wry smile seemed to amuse them and Mac reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"Hawkes had to head back. Adam paged him about his results twenty minutes ago," Stella told her. "He said to say you looked good up there."

Feeling a flush spread up her neck, Lindsay cleared her throat. "I'll be sure to thank him for that one." They all chuckled and she smiled shyly. "Thanks for coming, guys." Danny winked at her and her cheeks grew hotter.

"Of course we came," Stella told her, reaching out to finder the medal still pinned ceremoniously to the breast of Lindsay's uniform.

A sad smile crossed the older woman's face, and she wrapped a gentle arm around Lindsay's shoulders. "No more hooky. Back to work," she ordered, her voice hard despite the glistening eyes Lindsay had noted before Stella turned her face.

"Yes, please," Lindsay stressed.

As they moved down the sidewalk, Stella's long strides took her ahead of Lindsay until she and Mac were even. Danny lingered next to her, surreptitiously sliding a finger under the fabrics of her coat and shirt to touch the skin of her wrist. Her pulse kicked into overdrive and Lindsay smiled at the familiarity of it.

The whole horrible morning only served to remind her of the two scars she carried—one twice as ugly and raw as before. But, somehow, the self-consciousness wouldn't come. Danny had never made them feel ugly. She didn't even remember sparing them a thought the first time she'd lost her shirt in front of him. Until, that is, he'd paused to press a kiss to each of them reverently, as though he was kissing an idol's feet.

At the time, she'd practically jumped him, her passion increasing ten-fold, but the memory made her throat swell and her heart pang sweetly.

He never ignored them in bed, lavishing them with the same attention he paid on the rest of her body. Sometimes, though, when she would lie awake long after he'd fallen asleep, she'd feel him cover that spot on her abdomen, stroke it with his fingers. It was as if, even deep asleep, he was expressing his gratitude for the chance to touch that scar, that she had survived yet again.

At least, that's what she thought it meant. She'd never actually questioned him about it, fairly certain he would just clam up as he was wont to do during conversations about the meaning of actions. Specifically _his_ actions.

But that was all right. She wasn't really one to talk about feelings either.

_**December 16**_

Lindsay tapped her pencil eraser on the table, speaking without really thinking. "Eight letter word for 'captivate.'"

"Any letters?" Danny asked, flipping a page in the sports section. He didn't look at her as his eyes skimmed the paper, his hand automatically bringing the steaming mug to his lips.

"Blank, blank, 't'—"

"Entrance."

"You didn't even let me finish." Lindsay blinked at the puzzle. "Actually, that makes the next letter 'r.' That makes so much more sense."

Danny grunted, busy with the stats. Screwing up her mouth, Lindsay checked the next clue. "A fruit beginning with 'k,'" she murmured to herself.

"Kiwi."

Lindsay shook her head even though she knew he wasn't looking and chewed on her lip. "It's not kiwi."

"What? Of course it is," Danny said, finally removing his eyes from the sports to frown.

"It's not."

"It has to be," he insisted, beginning to sound annoyed at her.

Raising her gaze, she faced him patiently. "Okay, fine, it has to be. But it's not."

Danny shoved his section to the side and snatched the puzzle out of her hands. "That doesn't make any sense."

Watching in resignation as Danny took the driver's seat on the Sunday crossword, Lindsay mutely held out the pencil. He grabbed it without looking at her, still frowning at the clue. "What the hell kind of fruit has that many letters?"

Refraining from listing multi-syllabic fruits, Lindsay picked up the discarded sports section and turned to the beginning. "Forty-niners are ahead by three wins," she told him, though she was sure he already knew.

"They'll get what's coming to 'em," he told her absently.

"You mean another Superbowl ring? Yes, I believe they will."

"Bite me, Montana."

Grinning to herself, she turned the page and scanned the articles, but nothing piqued her interest. Sighing, she picked up the current events section and began wading through the depressing information.

"Have you talked to Freddy?"

His voice was carefully casual, but Lindsay still felt her back stiffen before she could force herself to relax. "No," she murmured, not looking up from the newspaper.

She felt his eyes on her, sharp, discerning. She knew what he was thinking and she agreed in theory, but, unfortunately, she couldn't bring herself to call Freddy. The very idea of adultery sickened her; she couldn't help that. It was how she'd been raised.

It wasn't so much that she believed in the unbending sanctity of marriage. She understood that people fell out of love. It happened. She empathized, having been prepared to enter into a loveless arrangement herself. But that was why the British invented divorce. Adultery was betrayal, pure and simple. And Lindsay had never had the stomach for betrayal.

"You should call him."

"He should stop sleeping with married women," she countered evenly, flipping the page.

Danny took a bite of his bagel, no doubt buying himself time to think of a new argument. They'd had the conversation in various forms several times over the past week. It was a never-ending discussion since Lindsay refused to budge and Danny refused admit defeat.

Considering Danny's self-proclaimed dislike of Freddy, his tenacity was fairly bizarre. But Lindsay avoided examining his reasoning too closely for fear he might actually have a point somewhere fueling his stubbornness. Instead, she spent each conversation blocking his every advance until he gave up on beating his head against the proverbial wall for the day and let the subject drop.

"Lindsay," Danny began, his voice gentle, soothing, the kind of voice one used to quiet a frightened horse.

Grudgingly, she raised her eyes from the paper to meet his across the table. And that was when she realized he'd changed tactics. He didn't continue, rather just stared at her until a strange desperation filled her. She needed Danny to think she was right, to denounce Freddy's behavior. She needed Danny to be better than him.

She began to open her mouth with the intention of somehow forcing him to fulfill that need, but Danny cut her off before she could start. "He's family."

Frowning, Lindsay waited for him to continue. "He's wrong," she said when he didn't.

"Yeah, he is," he said simply. "But he's family." Lindsay dropped her eyes to the toasted bagel that had grown cold on her plate. "You love him, Lindsay. You're going to have to deal with him eventually."

"He leaves in a couple of weeks," she said, hoping Danny would tell her she could wait.

Freddy would be back from the Galapagos in a year. A year wasn't that long, just a few months really. Maybe then, after she'd calmed down and managed to acclimate herself to this new view of Freddy, they could talk over the messy business. He would only be gone a year.

Abruptly, the reality of that truth sank in, leaving her with an odd sensation of hollowness. He would be gone a year, meticulously losing himself in the unexplored regions of the volcanic terrain. She knew what he did was dangerous, it was essentially the reason he was so prized at the magazine: he brandished his death wish as a badge of honor.

"Exactly," Danny said, carrying on the conversation she'd left behind. "You need to talk to him before he leaves."

Biting her lip, she set the paper aside and ran a hand through her hair. Oddly, she found herself wondering what Freddy would tell her to do. She knew, of course. Freddy wasn't one to avoid confrontation. Sometimes she wondered if he deliberately sought it out most days.

She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Freddy would tell her to face her fear directly, to step up and be the bigger person. He'd tell her that being an adult and acting like an adult were rarely synonymous, and that she couldn't rely on anyone but herself to take that leap. He'd dispensed similar advice several times over the years, and she'd always assumed they were things his mother had told him when he was young. Odd phrases of advice parents doled out that in essence suited any situation without fully applying in the specific. But at least they were true.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she jerked when the puzzle was thrust back in front of her. "Kumquat," he told her, picking the sports back up.

She stared at it for a moment, seeing the places he had filled in other clues to solve the all-important fruit mystery. His chicken scratch snuggled up against her more rounded capitals, making a crazy weaving pattern that danced across the crossword grid.

"I'm going to take a shower," she muttered, carefully putting the puzzle in the middle of the table and setting the pencil on top.

She could feel Danny's eyes on her as she carried her plate into her tiny kitchen then walked back across the room. The weight of his gaze was heavy on her back until she disappeared down the hallway.

_**December 19**_

She knew Danny was right. Calling Freddy was her responsibility after running away from the table in a crowded pub. She'd acted abominably, regardless of Freddy's culpability. She simply couldn't seem to force herself to pick up the phone.

Forehead resting on the heel of her hand, Lindsay stared down at the phone on her desk, willing herself to touch the receiver. But she'd been doing the same for nearly ten minutes, and she knew that she wouldn't execute the maneuver in the near future.

So it was shocking enough to make her jump when the phone rang next to her immobile hand.

Snatching it up, the startled pounding of her heart made her voice more caustic than usual. "Monroe."

"Lindsay, it's Freddy."

Lindsay nearly knocked over her coffee mug at the eeriness of it all. "Hi."

Freddy let out a smooth, deliberate breath. "Linny—"

"It's none of my business," she said quickly, making him pause.

"Well, no," he agreed. And they were both silent, the awkward anger still wedged between them. "I love her. I can't help it."

"What about the kids?" She could have bitten off her careless tongue.

"We haven't talked through exact arrangements yet, but they're twelve and fourteen, old enough to understand divorce."

Lindsay froze. "She told you she's leaving him?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "We talked about it. She said while I'm gone she would tell Clark and the kids that she needed time to herself. Then when I get back, we're going to take it slow. It won't be ugly this way."

Divorce was always ugly, she knew, but couldn't bring herself to say it to him. "Okay," she whispered.

"Linny, I'm happy," he told her gently. "This is good."

Sometimes it's not about you, she wanted to scream, but really wasn't that as selfish as his way? Their way. His and Marilee's. There was no way to keep everyone happy. It was either she stayed or she left. No one could win this one.

And that made her wonder what she would do in Freddy's shoes. She wasn't exactly in Freddy's position. She didn't yet know if she was in love with Danny. She'd never been in love and she wanted to be sure before she said the words—especially since she was fairly certain he wasn't in love with her yet. And in no way did she want to freak Danny out.

However, she was so attached to him already she couldn't imagine having to watch him marry someone else. What if he'd been married when they met? Would she have been so dismissive? She knew—beyond the shadow of a doubt—that she'd never have touched him. But if he'd told her he was leaving said wife.

"It's none of my business," she said, but the edge was gone and Freddy didn't argue anymore.

"What time are you coming over?"

"What?"

"Christmas? Chestnuts roasting?"

"Oh," she murmured.

He was silent again. "You're spending it with Danny?" he asked, his voice light.

"No," she said, dazed at the idea. Though why Freddy's guess upset her, she wasn't sure. "He's going to his parents' place. Or…I assume he is. We didn't really talk about it."

Freddy carefully didn't comment. "You're flying home?"

"No." She'd used her vacation time for the next ten years with her sojourn to Montana.

"Then you're coming here." She hesitated and he expelled an impatient breath. "Must I remind you that you've spent the last two here?"

"I just—"

"Lindsay, you spend Christmas here," he said simply.

"You don't like Christmas," she argued, feeling sullen just for saying it.

"I don't like the _materialism _of Christmas. I have nothing against the holiday itself. Or seeing you."

She sat stunned for so long Freddy took the silence as a snub. "Lindsay, I understand that you disapprove. I get it. But you're family. I love you, and you're going to spend Christmas at my place." He paused. "Or your place since you hate The Cavern."

Lindsay winced at the moniker she'd given his penthouse in one of her more caustic moments during her incarceration there. "Your place is fine," she told him quietly.

"Good." He didn't seem to know where to go from there. "What time should I have dinner ready?"

Lindsay frowned. "Dinner? You're not making Mrs. C cook us Christmas dinner, are you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I pay her to clean not cook. She just…does it," he said, clearly at a loss as to why.

He sounded so put out by Mrs. C's unsolicited cooking that Lindsay had to laugh. It was strange. Even when she hated Freddy, she still loved him.

_**Christmas Eve**_

"Merry Christmas," Lindsay called, shutting the door to the penthouse behind her.

"Hey, Linny." Freddy closed the oven door and ambled towards her across the span of the great room. Spotting the bag at her feet, Freddy gave her a stern look. "Linny—"

"You didn't say no gifts," she interrupted quickly with an innocent smile. "Besides, you'll like it. I promise."

His mouth pressed into a hard line, but she could see the amusement in his eyes. "Merry Christmas," he told her, finally reaching her and bending over to press a kiss to the side of her head.

She grinned up at him and unwound her scarf. "Merry Christmas."

Snatching up the festive gift bag, Freddy gestured down the stairs. "After you."

"Thanks," she said, turning finally to look at the room.

On the first step down, she faltered. A huge Christmas tree stood in the center of the glass wall, blocking nearly all of the windows leading to the balcony. No tree had ever graced the cramped quarters of Freddy's old studio, and Lindsay gaped at the gaudy testament to the holiday spirit that had infested Freddy's life.

Freddy sighed, stuck behind her as she stood, stalled out on the stairway.

"It's…nice," Lindsay said, taking in the giant gold and silver balls that hung sparsely over the tree's vast expanse.

Freddy stared at the tree. "Don't placate me, Linny. It's horrible."

"Awful," she agreed. "Who decorated this thing? And are they masochistic?"

"You haven't seen the other side yet," Freddy told her grimly.

"Other side?" Lindsay echoed, an odd glee rushing through her, prompting her to chuck her coat at the couch and practically sprint across the room.

She could feel Freddy's eyes on her as she stumbled to a halt. The tree loomed before her, captivating in its tastelessness, and she stared in awed wonder. "Oh my dear God."

"It's tinsel," Freddy supplied helpfully.

"I think I'm going blind." Lindsay squinted at the tree. "Is that fake snow underneath?"

"Sadly, yes."

Overcome, Lindsay shook her head to clear her vision and turned to the golden lights in his window. They twinkled in a varied pattern as she tried to read the backwards letters the string looped across the glass. "What does it say?"

Freddy's voice was strained. "Ho, ho, ho."

"You let someone write 'ho ho ho' in twinkle lights on your window?"

"My neighbors love me."

"I'll bet." Glancing over her shoulder, she found him setting her gift on the coffee table, an impassive expression on his face. The pieces fell into place and she smiled wanly. "Marilee did this."

"No," Freddy said, scratching his neck. "She hired someone to do it."

"Even better. You know, as a society wife, I would have expected her to be better at this," Lindsay said, but tried to look jovial to take the sting out of her words. They weren't meant as an insult. Not really, anyway.

Freddy wisely stepped over that particular potential disaster and shrugged. "She's never been here, so she didn't really know the space."

Lindsay shook her head, annoyed for some reason. "No, I meant—" Marilee should know he'd hate this. If she loved him, she'd know that. "Nothing, nevermind. I'm starving."

The faux cheer in her voice must have disgusted him—he genuinely disliked deceit—but he didn't say anything about it. Perhaps he was as relieved as she to drop the subject. "I'll grab the rice."

Lindsay's forehead furrowed. "I thought Mrs. C was forcing a feast on you."

"She tried," Freddy assured her. "But she was going to cook everything yesterday before she left. So I surprised her last week with extra vacation time."

Lindsay felt a swell of affection for the stuffy, insensitive jerk. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Besides, why mess with tradition? We've got two years of lemon chicken and fried green beans to live up to."

"Please tell me you got dumplings," she said, following him into the kitchen.

"They're in the warmer," he said. "You wanna grab some plates?"

She moved around him to get the plates from the cupboard as Freddy pulled the cartons out of the oven. They worked together in companionable silence, truly at ease with each other in the way only family had, a feeling Lindsay had been noticing more acutely since her stay with Freddy.

They settled themselves on the floor of the great room so they could stare at the tree while they ate. Not so much because they felt it was festive but because it was impossible to ignore. Lindsay was content to sit in the cozy silence, but Freddy seemed to determined to make conversation for the first time in his life.

"How are things with Danny?" he asked, and Lindsay couldn't tell if the interest was feigned or genuine as she took in his impassive expression.

"They're good."

"Then why aren't you spending the happy holidays with his family?"

"We exchanged gifts yesterday," she said with a shrug.

Freddy accepted the non-answer and asked, "What'd he get you?"

Remembering the lacy red nightgown, Lindsay cleared her throat and kept her eyes on the mu shu pork in her bowl. "You don't want to know."

"Right then. How 'bout those Niners, eh?"

Lindsay laughed. "They're real heroes, Fred." Smiling at her, Freddy tossed a wrapped fortune cookie at her head in retaliation and she mugged a face, saying, "Oh, that's mature."

He laughed a little, too, then and she grinned, suddenly comfortable with the world. She couldn't help it, he was still her hero, even with all the mistakes he made. Besides, she didn't picture herself being in a position to judge anyone, really, considering some of the asinine decisions riddling her own past.

"When do you leave?" she asked, startling him after the silence.

"Three weeks," he told her after a minute. "But I'll only be gone half the time. Something about a lack of funding or the Discovery Channel. I don't know."

Lindsay blinked. "The Discovery Channel? What do they have to do with you?"

Freddy shrugged, impatient with the subject. "Wasn't really listening."

Irritation and affection warred for Lindsay's attention. "You weren't listening when they explained why they cut your trip in half?"

"No," he said with a sigh. "These people don't explain things, Linny. They just tell me I'm not going."

Knowing this wasn't strictly true, Lindsay changed the topic. "When will you be back then?"

"September or October."

"Ah." So they'd cut off three months, not half the trip. She cleared her throat. "Are you going to open your gift?"

He shook his head ungraciously. "I can't believe you."

"Freddy," she said, amused. "It's Christmas. Just open the damn gift."

Heaving a sigh, Freddy set his bowl on the floor and slid the bag closer. He frowned at the dancing snowmen on the small wrapped package he pulled from the fluffed tissue then ripped the paper off. The compass's glass surface reflected the twinkling lights as Freddy stared down at it without speaking.

Lindsay waited a moment then said, "I know you have one already, but this is supposed to be top of the line. The guy at the store said they've never had one returned." Pausing, she frowned as a thought occurred to her. "I guess that could be because the owner got lost and was never heard from again, though."

Freddy shot her a wry look. "I'm not going to disappear, Lindsay."

"It happens," she said, trying to keep the exchange light. "And I've gotten used to having you around, so I'd like it if you came back next October."

Freddy gazed at her solemnly. "I promise I won't get myself kidnapped by Latin American cannibals who've gone undetected for decades on the Galapagos Islands."

"Good. Could you pass the chicken?"

Smirking, he handed her the container and stood. She glanced up, watching as he headed towards the tree. When he leaned down, Lindsay suddenly noticed a lone present hiding beneath the tree's lowest branches.

Astonished, Lindsay felt her jaw drop as Freddy brought the brightly wrapped box over to her. She bit back a small smile as he fluffed the bow before handing it to her. Taking it, she met his eyes again as he collapsed back down to the floor and watched her.

"Yeah, you're supposed to open that," he told her when she didn't move.

Hurriedly, she wiped her hand off on her jeans and pulled at the paper. She wanted to savor the moment, since she wouldn't be able to open her other presents with her family. They'd arrived in the mail over the last two weeks, but Lindsay couldn't bring herself to open them until Christmas morning. And even then it was never the same. So, conscious of Freddy's anticipation melding with her own, she carefully slid her finger under each piece of tape and unfolded the shiny paper. The robin's egg blue box underneath made Lindsay freeze, her eyes jerking to Freddy's.

He just watched her, unsmiling, until she dropped her eyes back to the box and gently pulled the top off to reveal a long necklace of black pearls that gleamed even in the softly lit room. She loved them on sight, but could do nothing but stare.

"They're a long string. I got a clip for them, so you can wear them doubled. The woman said you could wear them as a bracelet, too."

She was silent for so long, Freddy's face became even more impassive, as if afraid he'd disappointed her. She wracked her brain for the right words, the ones that would convey what this gesture meant, but they wouldn't come.

"I don't even wear jewelry," was what finally came out of her mouth. She winced, but Freddy just laughed.

"You'll wear these."

_**December 29**_

"Nice," Jen commented, cradling the pearls and admiring the sheen that made the pearls glow with the illusion of an inner light.

Lindsay smiled softly. "Very. They're exactly like my grandmother's."

Carefully setting them back in the box, Jen raised an eyebrow. "Your grandmother had black pearls?"

"No, of course not. She had perfect white ones. A long string of them like these," Lindsay said, gesturing at the box. Noticing she still had it in her hand, Jen hastily put the box down. "But she told me I couldn't wear them because I was too brown."

"Excuse me?" Jen said, frowning.

"According to my grandmother, pearls clash with a tan, particularly if you happen to be sort of brown all over." Lindsay gestured to her hair and eyes. "I remember telling Freddy about it in a letter. God, I must have been twelve at the most," she murmured, trying to remember.

"So he got you pearls? That's kind of sweet."

Lindsay grinned. "No, he got me black pearls."

Jen tried to smile back but felt her brow furrow, not quite understanding the joke. "I don't get it."

"My grandmother told me that tan women wore black, like onyx or jet. So, Freddy got me black pearls."

Lindsay started laughing, hard enough that she couldn't breathe, and Jen just shook her head. "You two are so weird."

"I know," Lindsay said as she hiccupped to a stop. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

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Susan: I hope things are clearing up a bit. The prologue was a massive leap forward in time; this chapter takes you back to the end of Two Steps Back where Danny and Lindsay have just (finally) gotten together. Thanks so much for the review! First one on the story should always get a special prize.

A.N. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm going to try to send review replies from now on because it was making the last few chapters of TSB four extra pages. This way is much easier to upload. :-p Also, the next chapter should be up in a few days, I just have to finish it first.


	3. January 2008

A.N. Uber thanks go out to scoob2222 for her beta prowess!

_**January 1, 2008**_

Lindsay watched the ball drop on the breakroom tv, and toasted Danny with her plastic cup of apple cider. "Happy New Year, Messer," she said with mock solemnity.

He returned the gesture with a serious expression, but his eyes glinted, giving away his mirth. "Ditto."

Taking a sip of the stand-in champagne, Lindsay turned back to Dick Clark and smirked a little. Her parents would be enjoying the same view in two hours, and she found the memory of watching it with them every year funny now that she was seated next to Danny mere blocks from Times Square.

"What are your plans for this year?"

Jostled out of her reverie, Lindsay frowned at Danny. "What?"

"Goals, you know? Like resolutions?"

Lindsay's expression didn't change. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you make any resolutions?"

He was starting to sound a little irritated, but Lindsay couldn't push her thoughts past the shock of his question. She gaped a little as she tried to make sense of the words. What _were_ her goals for this year?

Trying not to let the past interfere with her life. Concentrating more on work than on her own tangled emotions. Getting to know Danny even better than she did. Enjoying the fact that, for once, she trusted someone else more than she trusted herself.

Shrugging, Lindsay turned back to the screen. "Learn to kickbox."

"Seriously?" Danny asked, his voice deadpan.

Lindsay suppressed her reaction to his displeasure. She knew she was being annoying; she just couldn't help it in this instance. She really had no desire to share these feelings with him since they revealed far too much and completely broke the silent pact they'd made not to discuss getting too deep. Or she assumed they'd made it, anyway, as—once again—they'd never discussed it.

"I don't know. I haven't been thinking about it much," she told him, which was true. "I've been trying to live more for the moment."

Accepting that, Danny turned back to the tv. His eyes were locked on the happy crowd on the screen as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "What about you?" she asked after a moment.

He turned his head, and his eyes unerringly met hers as if he'd felt her watching him all along. The moment had become so serious so fast Lindsay could have sworn the air in the room stilled between them. Danny studied her, eyes darting back and forth between hers. She froze, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over them in the small break room as Dick Clark sang "Auld Lang Syne" in the background.

The hard wall softened behind Danny's gaze, and Lindsay suddenly knew this was a turning point in her life. Something extraordinary was about to happen. Unconsciously, she held her breath as Danny opened his mouth to speak.

A loud rapping on the glass wall made Lindsay jerk to attention, nearly spilling her apple cider all over the couch. Danny's reflexes had his hand automatically shooting out to steady hers.

"DB over in the Bronx," Mac told them, handing Danny a slip of paper. "Extra uniforms are posted at the crime scene."

"Thanks," Danny said as Mac disappeared back out the door.

Because, really, what else could he say? "Let me just finish this conversation, boss"? He stared down at the piece of paper with a resentment he usually saved for drivers that cut him off in mid-day traffic.

Lindsay stirred on the couch, leaning forward to set her little plastic cup on the coffee table, and Danny watched the fabric of her shirt stretch along her back where it was tucked into her pants. His mind flipped back to those first few weeks he'd known her and he remembered thinking he'd never met a woman so buttoned up.

The thought made him smirk now. A little reserved when she didn't know you, endlessly polite to strangers—until they broke her precious laws—but Lindsay Monroe was anything but buttoned up. The scratches on his back attested to that fact.

"You ready?" she asked, her deep brown eyes flitting over his face.

She looked nervous, which made him smile at her. "Course. I'm drivin'."

He watched in satisfaction as her eyes narrowed. "Oh, and why is that, Messer?"

"You ever driven in the city on New Year's?" he asked, already knowing she hadn't. Her silent glare was more than enough of an answer. "That's why I'm drivin'."

Lindsay huffed, but didn't say anything else, which just made his smirk deepen. Surreptitiously, he continued to watch her as she gathered their trash and disposed of it on her way out the door. In a way, despite the distinct lack of pomp and circumstance usually required for a celebration, he felt good about the whole evening.

Mac had been a bit suspicious when Danny had offered to cover Hawkes on New Year's considering that Danny hoarded free holiday shifts like a magpie collected shiny objects. But Lindsay had been assigned, so he'd gone straight to Hawkes and offered the other man a New Year's off.

He had no idea why it had been so important to spend the night with her. It wasn't like they were alone. Hell, he hadn't even been able to kiss her as the ball dropped. He just knew he hadn't wanted to spend it with anyone else.

The whole feeling was so foreign to him that he had been almost grateful for Mac's interruption. Who knew what would have come out of his mouth if he'd been left to his own devices.

_**January 2**_

"Happy New Year," Jen said with a smile as she popped up next to Lindsay in front of the elevator bank.

Lindsay grinned at her. "Hey. Happy New Year. How was the mini-vacation?"

Jen pulled a face. "It's not like I went anywhere. I just took a couple days off. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

The elevator arrived, and they stepped to the side to allow people to get off. Jen held the door for her and Lindsay pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor before collapsing against the wall of the car.

"Mysterious glowing substance found in a victim's stomach," she offered, shrugging.

Jen blinked at her. "Poisoning?"

"Strangely, no." Running a hand through her hair, Lindsay smiled wanly. "At least, it wasn't the cause of death. Stab wound to the side. But it was hard to tell at first since the victim looked like he'd been trampled."

"Do I even want to know?" Jen asked.

"Probably not. It was at a New Year's party. The guests didn't notice he was dead."

"How do you not notice someone lying dead on the ground?"

"Ask the people who stepped on him," Lindsay said with a snort.

Lindsay felt Jen's eyes on her and looked up to find her best friend's face sympathetic. "Sorry you had to work."

Surprised, Lindsay shook her head. "Oh, it was fine. I didn't mind."

"Maybe because a certain someone volunteered to work with you?" Jen teased as the elevator finally opened on the thirty-fifth floor.

Lindsay blushed and shoved her hands in her pockets as they moved down the hall. "What did you and Adam do?"

Jen shrugged. "Nothing really. Adam just got back from Phoenix a few days ago. We met up for dinner. That's about it."

Shooting her a look, Lindsay started to respond then paused as Danny shouted, "Montana" from down another hallway. Flack and Adam stood next to him, both smiling a little when they saw the women. Abruptly changing directions, Lindsay glanced back to make sure Jen was following.

"Check this out," Danny said, offering her the open file. "The weird glowing stuff in the guy's stomach? It's the liquid out of an ordinary glo stick."

"Great," Lindsay said, reading the file. "How does that help us?"

"Only one other guy at the party had on those stupid necklaces, remember?" Flack offered, a wry smile on his face.

Lindsay frowned, glancing at Danny as she thought back to all the witnesses they'd canvassed: drunk, disorderly and utterly useless college students. "Yeah, the redhead, right?"

Flack consulted his notebook. "One Mr. Joseph Fallon. Grad student over at Columbia."

Raising an eyebrow, Lindsay looked back up at Danny. "Do we have anything else?"

Danny grinned at her. "Always the skeptic. Yeah, Montana. I got more for ya."

He'd made his voice low on that last sentence and she felt her cheeks heating. Biting back a reprimand for flirting in the office, she settled for glaring at him, and his eyes sparked with victory. "Turn the page," he told her.

Looking back at the file, Lindsay turned the page over and frowned at the DNA results. "Ferret hair?"

"Guess who owns a ferret," Danny urged her, his voice nearly quavering with excitement.

"Mr. Fallon?" He and Flack grinned at each other, obviously exchanging mental high-fives. "Danny, that just proves our vic was in Fallon's apartment. We need a murder weapon and a couple of prints, maybe some irrefutable Fallon DNA all over said weapon before the jury'll convict this guy."

Adam cleared his throat. "Sid made a cast of the wound tract. We might be able to come up with a match to the weapon in the database."

Lindsay shook her head, trying to tamp down on her frustration. "We tried that already. The tract was too generic."

"How can a tract be generic?" Jen asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The side of the weapon was slightly rounded, but that's it," Adam explained, looking as sorry as if it were his fault. "Nothing unique. Just your average knife"

Jen nudged Lindsay in the arm. "Find any chefs on the premises?"

A reluctant smile spread over Lindsay's face. "No, no chefs. No butlers either. You should've seen this place. I swear to the good Lord above, they had milkcrates for furniture."

Jen wrinkled her nose. "I don't even want to think about the trace you must have found in there."

"Believe me, _I_ don't want to think about the trace she found in there," Adam said with a shudder. "And I actually had to identify it."

Jen laughed at the sick expression on his face. "Yeah, I really don't want to know." Turning to Lindsay, she touched her arm to get her attention. "I gotta go. Lunch later?"

"Sure. Give me a call."

Abruptly, Jen dropped a kiss on her cheek, but Lindsay was used to Jen's easy affection now and barely blinked. "See ya," Jen called as she hurried away.

"Bye," Lindsay said, dropping her eyes back to the file.

A few seconds went by before she felt their eyes. Looking up, she found Adam, Danny and Flack all staring at her. "What?"

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Adam asked.

"What?" she repeated, squinting at him in her confusion.

"Her kissing you. At work."

"Not really. I just blame it on the fact she's Italian." She fluttered her eyelashes at Danny coquettishly and he smirked back. Then she turned serious again and shrugged, addressing his real issue. "You get used to it."

Flack grinned and took a step towards her. "Well, then—"

Holding up a finger, she glared sternly at him. "You're Irish."

She heard Danny chuckling while Adam stared between Danny and Flack nervously. It was almost as though he expected Danny to castrate his best friend right there in the hallway. She smiled at him reassuringly, but his expression didn't change.

Sometimes she wondered what she'd been thinking setting boisterous Jen up with Adam, a man who made _timidity_ seem extroverted. But Jen was so happy she'd practically been walking on clouds for the last month. By all rights, it should have been nauseating, and would have been if Lindsay hadn't known exactly how Jen felt.

"I say it gets us a warrant," Danny told her, breaking into her reverie.

She looked from him back to the file, torn. Finally, she sighed. "Dan, it's just not enough. Even if we get the warrant—"

"We can talk to him. Look," he said, moving closer to her. "Fallon didn't admit that he knew the vic. He never came forward. You gotta ask yourself why that is."

Two years before, she would have tensed defensively at his proximity, the intense look on his face. But she'd quickly become accustomed to his complete disregard for personal space when he got excited and now she didn't move away, simply meeting his eyes with that same intensity.

"Of course I'm asking myself that. Of course I think he's suspicious."

His eyes flared, green bursting into the irises unexpectedly, like the excitement she could suddenly sense coming off him in waves. "Then let's do it."

"I'll get Mac to call the judge," Flack said, pulling out his phone.

"Wait." Holding her breath for a moment, Lindsay looked away from them, the heat of Danny's gaze warming her profile. "If we go in there, guns blazing, and this guy lawyers up, we might lose our only chance of getting him."

Flack frowned, his eyes sharp on her now, even as Danny's softened. "That's true, Montana," he murmured to her, his voice too gentle for the lab and witnesses. When he saw her fist clench at her side, he smirked. "On the other hand, could be this guy had nothing to do with it."

Her eyes flew to his. She saw acceptance there, though the confusion lingered just behind it, and she wished she could explain her hesitance to him. All she knew was that she was more cautious now than ever before.

Nodding to Flack, she gestured to Mac's office. "Let's go, laddie-boy."

"That's Scottish, Monroe," he grumbled, following her anyway.

The judge was slow to give them the warrant, and when Jen called her for lunch, she and Danny were still waiting to hear from Mac whether or not they could take the apartment. So, she had no qualms about going down the block to meet Jen for a sandwich.

"Wanna eat in the park?" Jen asked, as the man behind the counter handed her a sandwich.

"Sure." Lindsay picked up a few napkins and stuffed them in her jacket pocket. "So, tell me about dinner."

Jen looked at her, confused. "Dinner?"

"With Adam," Lindsay clarified as they pushed out the door. "You said you got dinner when he came back from Arizona."

"It was just dinner." Jen wound her scarf around her neck. "We went to a little Thai place near his apartment."

They made their way down the crowded snowy street, all the more packed for the lunch hour. Swallowed within the crowd, Lindsay was, as usual, comforted by the anonymity of life in the city.

By silent, mutual agreement, they didn't speak again until they'd stepped into the freezing cold park. It was tiny, the swings were broken, the benches were covered in snow, and they'd never seen a single child there, but Jen and Lindsay ate there at least once a week.

"Just dinner, huh?" Lindsay hinted watching Jen's face as they settled onto one of the ratty benches.

"You know, I never realized that making out could be so much fun," Jen told her dreamily, eyes slightly glazed.

Lindsay choked on her coffee. "That good is he?"

"Oh yeah." Jen snapped back into focus and looked at her. "Have you ever kissed a guy and had your entire body go up in flames?"

Lindsay thought of Danny and felt a full body flush heat her blood. "Oh yes."

"Adam can do that just by touching my hand."

"Wow."

Jen leaned forward with a girlish smile. "He's always touching me. Is that normal?"

"Depends on your definition of 'touching' I suppose," Lindsay said calmly, unwrapping the sandwich.

"I don't mean like that," Jen said impatiently. "He's always brushing my cheek or stroking my hand. Last night, we were watching a movie, and Adam was playing with my hair the whole time. Two hours and his fingers never slipped below my neck."

Lindsay shot her a small smile. "You do have nice hair."

"Thank you," Jen said primly, and Lindsay giggled. "So does Danny do that stuff?"

Lindsay's brow furrowed. "Not to the same extent, no. But that's not surprising. Danny's much less…cuddly than Adam."

Jen quietly pondered that fact for a long pause as she torn the paper on her own sandwich to shreds. "Jen, do you like it? Him?" Lindsay pressed.

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

"Then what does 'normal' matter?"

"It's never been like this for me," Jen said.

She'd repeated the sentiment often enough that it no longer surprised Lindsay. "Adam's not your average guy," Lindsay agreed.

"We haven't had sex yet."

Remembering how long it had taken she and Danny to make that final leap, Lindsay kept her expression neutral. "Oh?"

"And I'm okay with it," Jen said, seeming shocked even as she said it. "I mean, I want to sleep with him—God, do I want to sleep with him—but this part is just so good."

Lindsay blinked at her, watching Jen's face light up as she spoke about Adam waiting to sleep with her. She couldn't help the words that came out of her mouth, though halfway through the sentence she regretted them. "You do know you're in love with him, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Jen said on a sigh.

"Do you think he…" Lindsay's voice trailed away as she realized she was unsure she should be voicing the question.

Jen shifted on the couch. "No. Not yet, at least."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"Thanks," Jen said with a wan smile. She turned to her sandwich and gave it her full attention, but the moment was heavy with an emotion Lindsay couldn't quite identify.

"What's wrong?" she asked, when it was clear Jen wouldn't speak again without prompting.

"Nothin. I'm fine."

"I've got a hunch you're lying."

Jen stared down at the pieces of sandwich wrapper on her lap. Waiting for her to say something, Lindsay handed her a napkin. "Jen?"

"I'm fine, Linds." But she took the napkin anyway and laid it under the sandwich paper.

Worried, Lindsay still managed to do as Jen silently asked, forcing a smile. "All right," she said, dropping the subject.

"How're you and Danny doin'?" Jen sighed at Lindsay's blush. "Why am I even askin'?"

The horrible moment was gone, and Lindsay giggled as Jen pretended to sulk. Then Jen dropped the bomb to repay Lindsay's own nosiness. "Are you, you know, in love with him?"

Immediately, Lindsay stopped laughing. Her sudden silence felt strained even to herself, but Jen just waited, eyes locked on the shreds in her lap.

"I don't know," Lindsay said, though she did. Wincing at the lie, she ran a hand through her curls. "Sometimes I want to say it, but—" She cut herself off and bit her lip.

"Are you waiting for him to?"

"He's not in love with me," Lindsay said quickly.

So quickly, Jen blinked in confusion. "How can you know for sure?"

Lindsay squirmed. "I just don't think he is."

"But he might be. I've seen how you two look at each other."

Lindsay smiled, remembering how he'd looked at her the night before. The way he'd held her afterward when they'd finally lay still, his fingers sliding up and down her spine, was enough to make her hope. Then the smile on her face faded. Lust and love weren't always bedfellows, even with she and Danny, though at some isolated moments she thought they might be.

"I just want to be sure this time," she muttered, picking a pickle out of her sandwich and staring at it.

Jen sat quietly for a minute. "Yeah."

Sandwiches half finished, they both stared off into space until a loud beeping startled them. Lindsay fumbled the phone out of her pocket and checked the new text. "It's Danny," she said, sighing. "I've gotta go."

"Got the warrant?"

"Yeah. Let's just hope this guy did it," she muttered.

"And that he's stupid enough to keep the proof around," Jen added.

The wind howled as they tucked half-eaten sandwiches in Jen's purse and wrapped their coats tighter around their middles. Jen looked up at the sky with a wistful expression. "I think it's gonna storm soon."

_**January 10**_

Lindsay opened the door and had the breath knocked out of her for her pains as Danny wrapped his arms around her waist. Lifting her off her feet, he whirled her into the room, kicking the door closed as he went. His mouth caught hers in a teasing kiss that lasted only a moment before he pulled away.

She met his eyes with a wide, surprised gaze and laughed a little breathlessly. "Hi."

"Hey," he said with a cheeky lilt to his voice.

Dropping her on her feet, he turned and headed for her couch, sliding his jacket off as he moved through the apartment. She watched him, appreciating the way he moved even through the haze he'd thrown over her brain.

"I thought you were working tonight," she called after him, completely off-balance.

"I was," he told her, tossing his jacket onto the cushion and settling himself on the arm so he could watch her, his feet braced widely on the floor before him. "But it's pretty quiet tonight, so he put me on call and told me to go home."

Interest lit Lindsay's face and a slow grin spread across his as she slowly moved towards him. "Is that right?"

"That's right," he murmured lowly.

She lowered her brow into faux concern. "So, really, you have no plans for the night."

"I am planless." He didn't move a muscle as she stepped between his legs.

"Such a shame," she murmured, sliding a hand up his arm.

"Tragedy," he agreed, eyes locked on her mouth as she lowered her face to his.

"We'll have to do something about that." Her lips brushed his as she spoke, and she felt the smirk twitch the corner of his mouth.

It didn't take much to convince him—it never did—and she hummed with pleasure as his fingers threaded into her hair. He shook a little under her arms as she wrapped them around his neck, and, for an instant, she had the presence of mind to wonder if he was laughing at her. Then his tongue slid against hers and her mind dropped away.

He seemed to lose control at the same moment she did, his body tensing under her hands just before his fingers left her hair to grip her hips instead. But, to Lindsay's surprise, he shoved her away.

"Oof," slipped out of her mouth as she stumbled backwards.

Danny straightened off the couch arm and reached out to reel her back to him, catching her so she didn't bounce off his chest. He cradled her against him with a gentle arm wrapped around her back, but his mouth was anything but gentle.

Lindsay felt like he wanted to devour her. It had been intense between them before, but this was something else. As Danny's mouth opened against and slipped over hers, she had the impression he was trying to pull something out of her. He needed something she had, and she was more than willing to give it, whatever it might be.

She met each of his advances with one of her own, sliding her tongue over his, biting at his lower lip, and still they couldn't get enough. Finally Danny ripped his mouth away with an air of desperation, latching his mouth over her neck and sucking like a hormone ridden teenager.

She clutched at his shoulders, unable to do more than whimper as her sense of touch overrode any other. The feelings flooded her, the warm moistness of the suction on her neck, the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the ripple of his muscles under her fingers. She was so far gone, she didn't even realize she'd collapsed against him until his thigh shoved between hers to help hold her up.

And then, of course, she had even more to feel.

Suddenly, his hands slid down to cup her ass, and he pulled her into his body so that every inch of her pressed against every inch of him, from his thigh between her legs to her breasts crushed against his chest. His mouth trailed back up her neck to hers, and she seized his kiss greedily, like a starving woman would steal bread.

Then Danny pulled away, his chest heaving against hers, causing oh-so-delicious tingles to race through her body and she whimpered at the loss. He didn't look at her, though his eyes looked as dazed as she felt. Rather, his gaze roamed the apartment, searching for something.

"Do you smell something burning?" he asked breathlessly.

She'd been sure there was no air left in her lungs, but at his words, she let out an expletive and jerked away so quickly he stumbled forward. "Tarts! Oven!" she yelled in a disjointed explanation.

"What?" he asked intelligently.

If she hadn't been so distracted by the thought of burning down her apartment with a raspberry tart, Lindsay would have been gratified that she seemed to have the same all-encompassing effect he had on her. He was like a nuclear bomb to her senses; he destroyed everything but the knowledge of him, the feel of him. Nothing else could break through the haze he produced.

Ripping open the oven, Lindsay waved away the wisps of smoke, thankful that Danny had noticed the smell in time. She sighed as she reached in to pull out the small tart tins. They were slightly blackened; too ruined to give away, but still edible enough she'd feel bad not eating them.

Sometimes she thought herself ridiculously proper. The scruples her mother had ingrained in her since birth were really very annoying; they made her eat burned tarts, for instance.

"Freddy get to the airport all right?"

Looking up from the not-nearly-ruined-enough tarts, Lindsay found Danny had followed her across the room to lean his forearms on her tiny counter. "Yeah. He's gone."

Gingerly, Danny reached over and snagged a bit of crust that had fallen off the crumbling tart. "You all right?"

Lindsay chuckled a little. "I'm fine. I survive without him quite well, I promise. I miss him when he's gone, of course," she said, shrugging a little as she eased another tart out of the oven. "But it's so rare to have him around that it's hard to concentrate on missing him."

She could feel Danny's eyes on her, and she knew she looked like hell. Her usually sleek curls were frizzy from the heat of the oven and her cheeks were flushed from the same. Her shirt was covered in flour with streaks of raspberry juice in odd places.

"You want a beer?" she asked, not looking up from the smoldering tarts.

He waited a beat before straightening from the counter. "Sure. Fridge?"

"Door," she said, her head already disappearing back into the oven.

She heard him pull it open and the beer bottles jangled. When she stood again, he'd closed the door and was standing behind her. "Red Tail, huh?" he murmured, his breath brushing her ear. "I thought you drank Newcastle."

"I do," she told him, trying to frown rather than melting back into his body. To support that goal, she turned to look at him. "You like Red Tail."

His hands came to rest on the counter behind her, one on each side of her body, caging her in. She tried to frown again, but the look on his face made her smirk instead, which was annoying. At least, she thought she should be irritated by the power he wielded over her. She just couldn't remember why.

Leaning down, he kissed her again, just a light sliding of his lips against hers. Her lashes fluttered shut and she kissed him back, loving the feel of him against her. After a moment, he pulled back a bit.

"Montana?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her much smaller frame. His voice was low and sweet, so tender.

"Mmm?"

His fingers came up to tangle in her curls and she smiled, tucking her face in the crook of his neck. Maybe Jen was right about the way he looked at her. "Should we turn off the oven now?"

Or not.

"Oh."

Stirring against him, she looked down at the oven and pulled away completely to shut the door. Her breath caught as she stepped to the side and his fingers refused to leave her, trailing along her as she moved away until finally he could no longer touch her. It felt amazing. Maybe loving. She sent him a wicked smile over her shoulder as she bent down and saw the answering glint in his eye.

She could live with maybe.

_**January 18**_

Turning the pages slowly, Lindsay read through the transcript, searching for something she'd missed. But no matter how many times she read it, nothing new appeared to enlighten her.

"Hey, Montana."

Out of instinct, she flipped the file closed as she looked up to smile at Danny. His eyes narrowed as he caught the gesture, but he didn't say anything. Seating himself, Danny hit a button on his computer's keyboard to wake it up and stared at the screen as his desktop picture replaced the familiar blackness. "You all right?"

Rubbing her forehead, Lindsay let out a harsh breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…I hate leaving this unsolved."

"I know."

He'd been pretty vocal about his worry she was becoming obsessed with the case. He'd repeatedly told her that he felt awful about it, too, but there was nothing more they could do. Fallon had an alibi, an airtight one since he had been caught on the surveillance tape of a local convenience store at the time of the murder.

Unfortunately, Fallon hadn't been able to think of anyone who would want to kill his sister's ex-boyfriend either. Fallon claimed he'd barely seen the "douche" all night, just long enough to make the guy drink the inside of a glo stick for cheating on his little sister.

"He was from your old neighborhood," Lindsay said quietly.

Danny's shoulders stiffened a fraction. "Yeah."

He'd been so tense about that discovery she couldn't help but wonder. "Did you know him at all?"

"No," he told her.

He hesitated for so long before answering she looked at him sharply. Only the knowledge that Danny had never lied to her kept her from digging deeper. This case and her reaction to it were pushing all his buttons, and it was making both of them more reticent to talk than usual, but she refused to believe he would lie to her. Danny just wouldn't do that.

Opening to the photos Sid had taken, Lindsay felt a fresh wave of frustration. "Nothing unique. How is that possible?"

"Linds, there were so many kids at that party, I'm surprised we weren't left with pieces of the guy."

As usual, her eyes were drawn to the distinct tattoo on his calf. She wondered what James Mancini had wanted to convey with the pattern. All it did was remind her of Prince's symbol years, which she was sure said more about herself than Mancini.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I know. I just hate it."

Danny gave her a wan smile and reached over to squeeze her hand. It was only a moment before he was gone, but it soothed some of the tension away. "Me, too."

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Susan: I'm glad you're enjoying it! If anything seems unclear, feel free to PM me. TSB is very long; I understand not wanting to have to go back and read it. :-p

Andy: Let me first assure you that I love fluff almost as much as I love angst. The pearls: Lindsay's grandmother so made that up so Lindsay wouldn't play outside so much. But I hope there's no rule against pale people wearing pearls because I am of the very pale Irish variety and I love pearls. Ah, me.

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A.N. I'll try to finish the chapters a bit faster now that I'm into 2008. But it may be a while before my next post since I'll be losing internet for a few days. Hang in there, guys! Feb 2008 is just about done and I'll post it as soon as I can.


	4. February 2008

_**February 2, 2008**_

Danny hated Valentine's Day.

Really, it was just an excuse for candy companies to jack up their prices and women to force men into effeminate situations. Every Valentine's Day was the same: wine, candy, candle lit dinners. When were women going to learn that candlelight just made it a helluva lot harder to see? It wasn't romantic. It even _smelled_ funny.

But if candlelight was what Lindsay wanted, that was what she was going to get. He wanted this to be perfect. He wasn't sure why he wanted that, but he did. And the best way to determine what she really wanted—aside from asking Lindsay herself—was to pick Jen's brain.

Glancing at the woman in question out of the corner of his eye, Danny finished testing the large blood pool on the snowy dock and cleared his throat. "Valentine's is comin' up."

Jen raised an eyebrow without even looking at him, busy doing something with her phone. "Thank you, Detective Obvious. You 'bout done there?"

Danny resisted the urge to snap back; he needed the valuable information she possessed. He watched her press a few buttons on her phone and scowl before he tried again. "You and Adam doing anything?"

She glared at him so intensely Danny made a mental note to never ask that question again. Jen immediately turned back to her phone and raised it to her ear. "I was thinking of dinner with Lindsay," he said as a peace offering.

"Lindsay hates Valentine's Day," Jen said absently, pulling the cell away from her ear to check the screen.

Danny's head jerked towards her. "Wait, what?"

Jen didn't seem to hear him. Pulling the phone away from her head, she studied the screen before hanging it up. "Where the hell is he?"

"She hates Valentine's Day," he repeated, trying to get her attention.

"Yeah," Jen murmured, pushing another button on her phone with a deep frown.

Danny turned to stare off into space. The city line was spread before him but he didn't see it, lost in his thoughts. "But she's a woman."

"Did you say something?"

Jerking his head back to a distracted Jen, he cleared his throat. "Nah, nothin'. You all right?"

Her brow was creased, and she no longer looked annoyed. She looked worried. "Yeah, I'm fine." She paused to slip her phone into the holster on her belt. "Did Adam mention lunch plans?"

"Why? Did you have 'em?" Danny asked, not really interested as he looked back down at the blood trail.

"No," she said quietly, then shook herself. "Forget it. We done?"

"Pretty much," he said, stripping off his gloves. "Yo, Hawkes!"

The other CSI looked up and, at Danny's gesture to the car, nodded in acceptance. Packing the last of the evidence in his kit, Danny watched Hawkes snap one last picture then begin to gather the bright yellow markers.

"He's probably at the lab," Danny said, still watching Hawkes.

Frowning prettily, Jen looked at him, her eyes vulnerable in her concern. "What?"

"Adam. He's probably in the lab with his iPod on or somethin." When she still looked confused, Danny smirked a little and gestured to his ear. "Can't hear the phone."

"Oh." Her frown deepened. "No, he always keeps it on vibrate."

Danny let out a fake sigh. "Well, then, he probably doesn't want to talk to you."

Her glare was like being blasted by fire, and Danny beat a hasty retreat to the car. "See you back at the lab," he called over his shoulder.

Jen watched him go with a sour taste in her mouth. He couldn't be right; he was just joking. Feeling the heavy weight of her phone at her hip, she swallowed thickly. She really had to stop calling Adam's cell. Twice was one time too many when they hadn't made any plans.

Rubbing a temple, she headed over to the squad car parked at the edge of the crime scene. She'd already spoken to the two girls who'd found the body and no one lived close enough to the dock that they would have seen the struggle. The only buildings around were a few warehouses and the ticket booth for the ferry.

"Hey, O'Reilly," she snapped, and the young patrolman who'd been leaning on his car turned to her with wide eyes. "Make sure no one disturbs this scene. It better be pristine until CSI releases it. I get wind of anything less, I'll have your ass."

The kid quaked in his shoes, but kept his chin high and merely nodded firmly at her. "You got it, detective."

Reluctant respect had her tossing him a smile as she turned to stalk back to her department-issued vehicle. She needed to get out of there, away from Messer and his strange choice of topics, away from the blood that forced her to worry when Adam didn't pick up his damn phone. Sometimes she hated what this job did to her mind, warping it to always assume the worst.

Traffic back into the city was horrible, giving her a good hour to dwell on Adam's AWOL behavior. They'd never discussed exclusivity, so it was nauseatingly possible that Adam had been seeing someone else while he was seeing her, though she couldn't imagine him being so callous. He knew how she felt, how deep she was in this…thing they had going.

Anger swept through her as she considered the possibility he'd already been seeing someone when she began pursuing him. She hated feeling stupid. But, no, Adam would have mentioned it if he had been. He was too honest not to be upfront about that sort of thing.

By the time she reached the precinct and made it up to the lab, she was sweating and on edge at the futility of her own thoughts. She tried to channel Lindsay, to tell herself what she knew her best friend would say.

If she was honest with herself, she knew that there was nothing she could do if Adam was seeing someone else; if he was in love with someone else. She would have to accept it and move on, if not for any other reason but to save face. But, really, she had no reason to believe he was seeing another woman except her own insecurities. Hearing Lindsay's voice say it in her head, she nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. Now if she could just internalize all of it.

Stepping out of the elevator, relief suffused her as she spotted Adam's back heading down the hallway towards Mac's office. She was so flushed with the proof that nothing horrible had happened to him, she forgot everything else she'd been flustered over. "Hey!"

He glanced over his shoulder and paused as a large smile spread across his face. "Hey, Jen. What's up?"

"Nothing," she told him, determined to be casual as she remembered her earlier realization about a lack of established commitment. "Just looking for Linds. You seen her?"

Something flickered across Adam's face, but he hid it well, better than she would have expected from guileless Adam. "She's in trace with Stella. Big case."

"Yeah, mine too." She smirked as him as she started to back away. "Keep an eye out for ours. Messer and Hawkes just brought it back. Murder on a dock. Fun times."

Adam groaned and she wiggled her fingers at him before spinning on her heel and heading down the hall. "Jen!"

Surprised, Jen turned around again, head tilting to one side. She felt her hair swish across her back and knew she looked perfectly angelic with the questioning frown on her face. "Something wrong?"

Adam stepped up to her and lowered his voice. "I noticed a couple missed calls from you. I was going to call you after I gave Mac these results. Is everything okay?"

Melting a little, she smiled sweetly at him. "Everything's great. I was just going to see if you wanted to do lunch."

He winced. "Sorry, I already ate."

Jen shrugged, telling herself to stay casual even if it killed her. "It's cool. I grabbed something on the way back from my scene."

She started to turn again, her smile releasing him from further responsibility, but he reached out and gently grasped her elbow. "How about dinner?" he murmured, his hand sliding down to tangle his fingers with hers.

A smile flashed across her face and she nodded. "Sounds good. Call me when you're done?"

"Sure," he said, tossing her another smile.

She hated that a dinner invitation was all it took to make her happy, but that was the situation, and she had a definite bounce in her step as she made her way back down the hall to trace and Lindsay. Pushing open the door, she smiled tentatively at Stella as the women looked up and was relieved that Stella smiled widely back.

"Hey guys," Jen said, stepping up next to Lindsay at the table. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Finishing up a reconstruction," Lindsay told her, gesturing at the shredded paper taped together on the table. Jen goggled at it and Lindsay grinned. "It took forever."

Jen laughed at the glee in Lindsay's voice. "You're such a nerd." Stella laughed, too, as Lindsay huffed good-naturedly. Bending closer, Jen inspected the tiny letters printed on the page. "Jesus. How long did this take you three?"

"Three?" Lindsay asked as she and Stella started carefully packing the evidence away.

Jen's stomach twisted though she managed to keep smiling. "Oh, I thought I saw Adam leaving." Lindsay glanced up with a frown and must have seen something in Jen's face, since she tossed Stella a worried glance.

Stella picked up the box. "He ran in here to grab some results he had for Mac, but he's been gone for a couple of hours. I'm going to go put this box back in the closet. Take lunch, Linds. I'll call you when the DNA comes back."

"Thanks Stel," Lindsay said, carefully avoiding looking at Jen until the other woman was gone. Then she snapped her gloves off and raised searching eyes to Jen's. "Okay, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Jen told her honestly. "Adam went AWOL this afternoon. Didn't answer his phone. Obviously he wasn't here, but he didn't mention any lunch plans when I talked to him this morning, so he must not have wanted me to know. But then when I saw him in the hall, he asked me to dinner."

Lindsay's brow furrowed. "Back up. What happened?"

Jen shook off the haze of confusion and turned her eyes to Lindsay's face. "I'm being stupid, I know. I just can't lose the feeling that he's seeing someone else. But when I'm with him, I know he's not. He's too focused." Sighing, she stopped to rub her temple again. Her headache was just getting worse. "I'm not making any sense."

"Actually, you are," Lindsay murmured, her eyes roaming over Jen's face. "Do you have any other reason to think he's seeing someone? Besides today I mean."

"Not really," she said, shaking her head and looking off to the side. Then she bit her lip. "Except…There was a phone call right after he got back from Phoenix. Maybe it's nothing, but when he ignored the call his face was so…blank. It seemed odd at the time, but I never said anything."

Lindsay nodded. "So you've got a strange phone call he didn't take and a mystery lunch, a month apart, up against his complete adoration of you on a daily basis." At Jen's crestfallen look, Lindsay touched her arm. "I'm not making fun of you, Jen. I'm trying to help."

Pulling the emotions back inside, Jen shrugged. "I know I'm being stupid. It's just that I've been a little weirded out since that phone call and today was so strange. Adam always answers his phone, even if we're in the middle of—" Cutting herself off, Jen cleared her throat. "It was just strange, that's all."

Lindsay looked hesitant. "Well…maybe you should talk to him about it."

"No." Shaking her head again, Jen set her features into a determined expression. "If it's something I need to know, he'll tell me. Otherwise, I'm going to operate under the possibly delusional assumption he wants to be with me."

"It's not delusional," Lindsay assured her, tossing the gloves she'd been clutching into a covered waste can. "He adores you. You have to see that."

"Yeah," Jen murmured, feeling inexplicably wistful. It was a feeling she got often, as if Adam had happened to someone else, and she wished she could be that lucky.

She was losing her mind.

"I need coffee. Do you need coffee?" Jen asked, waiting patiently as Lindsay floundered at the sudden change of topic.

"Sure."

Sighing, Jen held open the door, letting Lindsay pass through first. As they walked down the hall to the locker room, Jen tried to distract herself from dwelling on Adam's mysterious disappearance. In her efforts, she remembered the odd conversation with Danny at their crime scene.

"Why do you hate Valentine's Day?" Jen asked, frowning.

Lindsay's face immediately darkened. "Because it's become so fake. It used to be about being with the person you love. Now it's about whose boyfriend will give them the biggest gift."

"Preferably jewelry."

"Ah, yes, the hierarchy of gift giving," Lindsay said with a wry grin as she swung the locker room door open. "Flowers are for the guy who doesn't care enough. If your boyfriend gives you flowers—"

"Dump him," Jen advised with a sly smile, leaning against the locker next to Lindsay's. "He obviously doesn't love you."

"Exactly. Candy, on the other hand, is too cliché."

"Horrible. Especially when he _knows_ you're on a diet," Jen said with a fake sigh.

"Jewelry is really the only way to show a woman you love her," Lindsay murmured with a mockingly solemn headshake.

Jen snorted. "Because women are so materialistic, those three little words don't even matter anymore."

"I hate Valentine's Day," Lindsay grumbled with feeling. "It's like an insult to women everywhere."

"Good to know."

At the sound of Danny's voice, Jen glanced over her shoulder as Lindsay peered around her towards the door to the locker room. He was leaning against the frame, watching them. "Hey, Messer. Long time no see."

Danny smirked at them both and wandered into the room, coming straight to Lindsay. "Hey," he murmured, pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head. "I thought I saw you come in here."

"Hi. We're getting lunch," Lindsay told him. She felt oddly awkward knowing he'd heard their conversation.

As he looked down into her face, Danny's smirk transformed into a small but genuine smile. "I was about to do the same."

Lindsay melted a bit at the implication of his following her into the locker room. "Oh, did you want to come with us?"

"You know," Jen said abruptly, "I already ate."

Lindsay looked away from Danny's amused expression to frown at her. "I thought you wanted coffee."

"Which I can get in the break room," Jen pointed out as she backed away from the couple.

"That's not coffee," Lindsay argued, her hands finding her way to her hips. "It's battery acid."

Danny's hand settled into the curve of her waist, and she was distracted just long enough for Jen to disappear through the doorway with a wave of her hand. "Call me later," Lindsay called after her, glaring slightly at Danny.

"What?" he asked innocently.

Sighing, she turned back to her locker. "Where do you want to get lunch?" she asked, pulling out her scarf and coat.

The snow lay thick on the ground after the most recent storm, but the temperature had dropped, rivaling the lowest ever recorded in New York. It was too cold to snow, which just didn't seem right somehow. The only way to keep warm anymore was to wear every piece of clothing she owned.

Or sleep with Danny. He was like a furnace. That snored.

At that thought, she slammed her locker shut and turned to gaze up at her boyfriend. He grinned at her, and she bit back an indulgent smile. She could live with snoring.

"Whaddya feel like?" he countered, taking the scarf from her and winding it around her neck with gentle hands.

She swallowed the lump in her throat at his tenderness. "Something warm."

His eyes brightened with humor as he grinned down at her. "Could you get a little less specific?"

Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue—the way the man sometimes made her revert to five years old was appalling—she shrugged her warm peacoat over her shoulders. "I don't care what it is. We could have fish sticks and French fries. I just want to be warm," she told him with a bit of desperation.

His grin was tempered a bit by the affection in his eyes. "Warm it is."

"Thank you," she said on a sigh and he laughed.

_**February 7**_

"Did you talk to him?" Lindsay asked, not looking up from her microscope.

"No," Jen said, not even trying to pretend she didn't know to what Lindsay was referring. "I told you I wasn't going to."

Lindsay stifled a sigh. "I really think you should."

"Why?" Jen asked. Lindsay sensed Jen moving at the counter behind her and knew Jen was leaning there, her arms crossed.

"Because you'll feel better and he'll know why you're acting so jumpy."

"I'm not acting jumpy," Jen protested, and Lindsay glanced over her shoulder to give her an incredulous look. "I'm not."

"You called me from his bathroom last night," Lindsay said, turning back to the microscope.

Jen cleared her throat. "Sorry again."

"It's not a problem," Lindsay assured her. "At least, not between us. Jen, you have to talk to him. You're driving yourself insane waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Shoes?" Jen repeated, infusing her voice with excitement.

Lindsay smiled despite herself. "It's an expression. Don't get distracted."

"I can't help it. I love shoes."

Laughing, Lindsay made a note in the file next to her and carefully slid the sample out of the microscope before packing the evidence away. "What is it you told me?" Lindsay murmured, tapping the lid onto the box.

They'd been silent for a long pause, and Jen stirred restlessly. "When?"

"About Danny and I, when we first got together. You told me that I needed to trust that he cared for me."

"I did? Damn I'm smart."

Tossing her a quelling look, Lindsay flipped the file closed. "The point is that you need to trust Adam. He's not seeing anyone but you. He's head over heels for you. Asking him where he disappeared to last week isn't exactly an invasion of his privacy."

Jen straightened as Lindsay picked up the box. "I know that."

"Do you?"

"You know, I didn't come here to be psychoanalyzed," she said, though her words carried no censure.

Lindsay raised an eyebrow as Jen held the door open for her. "Okay, I'll bite. Why'd you come up here?"

"To warn you that I think Messer's planning something." Jen's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You know, for V Day."

"You mean D Day?" Lindsay said grumpily.

Jen laughed, and Lindsay shook her head as all the men in the surrounding area stopped what they were doing to watch Jen walk by. Adam was a lucky man.

"What do you think he's planning? And why do you think he's planning it?" Lindsay asked, wracking her brain for any clues she might have missed.

"I don't know," Jen said, ticking the first answer off on one finger. "And I overheard Flack on the phone earlier today."

Lindsay frowned and let herself into Mac's office to set down the box. "What'd he say?"

Jen shrugged one shoulder and her hair slithered off it in a graceful swirl, the light making it look like a pile of dark velvet against the stark white of Jen's shirt. "I couldn't hear all of it. Harris was talkin' to Morely a few feet away, and you know how loud he is."

"Okay," Lindsay said patiently, knowing Jen was milking the story for all it was worth. "What _did_ you hear?"

"He said something along the lines of 'You gotta be kiddin' me, man. That's goin' overboard.'"

Lindsay waited a beat. "That's it? That's all you're going on?" Jen shrugged again. "Jen, he didn't even say Danny's name. How do you know he was talking to Danny? How do you know he meant Valentine's Day?"

"It all fits," Jen told her, giving her a sage nod.

Lindsay sighed and shook her head as she left Mac's office. "You got nothin' Angell."

"Well, _I _thought it was interestin," Jen muttered petulantly as she followed Lindsay back into the hallway.

Glancing at her sulking friend, Lindsay refrained from shaking her head again. "Jen, Adam will do something for Valentine's Day. It will be fantastic and romantic. I'm positive."

"How d'ya know?"

"Because he's Adam. And he adores you." Lindsay felt a bit like a broken record, but for one moment, Jen relaxed.

"He does, doesn't he?" she asked happily, and Lindsay laughed.

_**February 13**_

Danny made sure everything was where it should be then cracked his knuckles, anxious for Lindsay to arrive. He was gambling, here, and he was more nervous than a sweet gesture warranted. Who'd ever conceived of a woman who hated Valentine's Day?

But he'd heard her say the words in a venomous tone. He hadn't even known Lindsay had the capacity to hate something as much as that tone had implied.

The knock on his door was loud in the quiet, making his heart jump, and he hurried to swing the door open. She was on the other side, her head tilted curiously, coat in one hand, purse in the other.

"Hi," she said, obviously wondering why he was just staring at her.

"Hey." She started to move forward but stopped when he remained lodged in the doorway. "Close your eyes," he ordered, trying to keep the inevitable at bay just a little longer.

She stared at him like he was crazy—which he might as well have been, he decided—then let her lids flutter shut, a tiny smile teasing the corners of her mouth. The sight made him want to nibble at her lips, but he forced himself to focus on the potential disaster about to unfold.

Gently grasping her upper arms, he let his fingers slide down the soft skin to encircle her wrists. She shivered and he paused, overwhelmed with the need to mark her, to take her as his. Instead, he pushed the thought aside with a shudder of his own and smoothly drew her into the apartment, pausing only to shut and lock the door. With a light touch, he moved her to the open floor and tugged her coat and purse from her hands.

Taking one last glance around the room, he swallowed. "You can open them now," he said, staring at her profile.

So she did. The smile remained on her face, but it took on a frozen quality that made his stomach roil. Quickly, before she could freak out, he began to speak.

"I know you don't like Valentine's Day," he assured her. "So we're not celebrating Valentine's Day. We're just…spending time together. With chocolate."

Lindsay stared at the dessert picnic spread out across his living room floor wordlessly. Her profile didn't give him any clues as to what she was thinking. Worry crept up inside him, and he resisted the urge to squirm. Then she raised her face to meet his gaze, and his stomach clenched at the shine on her eyes.

He'd imagined irritation, yelling, maybe some insults as to his ancestry, but never tears. "Linds, don't cry—" he said desperately.

He moved forward, eager to demolish the scene so she'd never have to look at it again. But Lindsay caught his hand and pulled herself up on her tiptoes to press her mouth to his.

God, no one had every kissed him the way she kissed him. Like he might break, like he was precious. And the kicker was that she _was_ breaking him. Every time she touched him, he felt the walls he'd built around himself give just a little bit more.

When she pulled back, he instinctively followed her, unwilling to forego such a perfect melding of mouths. But she managed to gently dislodge her lips from his and placed a hand on his cheek to still him.

"Thank you," she whispered, the tears gone as he gazed down into clear brown eyes.

"You're welcome," he murmured back. "I got wine."

Why was this woman always able to throw him off his game? Where were the smooth words, the suave moves? It had been the perfect time for some of that lovey-dovey talk. He could have told her that she was sweeter than chocolate; that if she kissed him like that again she could have a picnic every night. Instead, he tells her he _got wine_?

But surprised pleasure suffused her face. "You bought wine?"

"You like wine," he said by way of explanation.

She laughed a little and he grinned at her, making her heart leap. He's looked so nervous when she arrived that she'd assumed he'd done something bad that he was afraid to tell her about. This was not bad. This was sweet, kind, generous, any number of adjectives. And the fact that he'd taken pains to do it the day _before_ Valentine's Day. Well, he was definitely proving he listened to her, wasn't he?

Leading her onto the quilt, he sat and tugged on her hand until she settled next to him. She knew she should be concentrating on the testament to his affection that was spread out in front of her, but she couldn't look away from his face.

"Okay, where do you want to start?" he asked, eyeing the picnic. "Chocolate covered strawberries maybe? Oh, I got those coconut things you like."

"Haystacks?" she asked, sufficiently distracted by the prospect.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they called 'em."

She reached over to take one, but got sidetracked by the light glinting off his hair as he leaned forward to offer the plate to her. Her eyes locked on his, and he looked so sweet sitting there holding out a plate of chocolate with a rakishly tilted eyebrow. She wanted to ravish him. Heat crackled between them, and she took the plate out of his hand. Setting it aside, she rose on her knees and straddled his lap.

"I think I'll start right here," she whispered against his mouth.

An hour later she discovered that champagne in the navel tickled like nothing else. Especially when it was licked out by a man with a goatee.

_**February 14**_

"Hey, hot stuff," Jen said with a cheeky grin.

Adam didn't answer aside from a smile and faint blush, simply reaching out and pulling her inside with him. Jen let her eyes fall shut, enjoying the way his fingers trailed over her skin as he slowly slid the fabric of her jacket down her arms and away.

When her eyes opened, Jen took one look at the candles decorating his apartment and felt her chest constrict. Adam was obviously waiting for her reaction, if the searching look on his face was any indication, but Jen couldn't seem to make her lungs work properly.

Finally, she said, "I think I need to sit down."

Adam jerked into motion. "Oh, yeah, sure. Here," he said, grasping her arm above the elbow and steering her into his dining room.

Dinner was spread over the table, and he'd set out real plates and napkins—nice enough to be called linens, she realized as she peered closer—rather than the paper they usually used. Two more candles sat in the middle of the round oak table.

The scene was immaculate: romantic without being cheesy or cliché. It was completely Adam, and she loved it.

"I hope you're hungry," he told her, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth.

"Starving," she said faintly, drifting into the chair he held out for her. She eyed the platter of enchiladas, the steaming bowl of rice, and a sweet smelling corn dish that she didn't recognize. "Where'd you get all this?"

Adam shrugged. "I made it."

"You cook?"

She winced at the scandalized note in her voice. It was just a shock. No man had ever cooked for her before, since, despite opinions to the contrary, reheating pizza did not count as making dinner. It smelled divine and she stared at the mounds of food, marveling. You couldn't get Mexican food like this in New York.

"Of course I cook, Jen," Adam said, sounding amused. "How do you think I eat?"

"Welcome to New York, land of take out. A bachelor's paradise." Jen smirked as she pulled her napkin onto her lap.

Laughing, Adam took the seat next to her and picked up her plate. "Cheese or chicken?" he asked, the spatula in his hand hovering over the enchiladas.

"Chicken," she said, her voice soft.

She couldn't stop watching him, even after he'd served them both. Taking a bite, she wanted to moan in pleasure. "Family recipe?" she asked, closing her eyes to savor the perfect spiciness of the dish.

"Lindsay's actually," Adam corrected. "I've been practicing."

Jen glanced down at her plate and the practically gourmet meal. "Lindsay can't cook."

Shrugging, Adam scooped up another forkful of rice. "I never said she made it. She just gave me the recipe."

"Why?" Jen asked on a frown.

Adam glanced at her, swallowing before he answered. "Are you always this suspicious? It's just Mexican food."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled self-deprecatingly. "I know. I meant Lindsay doesn't cook, why would she give you a recipe?"

"Oh. I mentioned a few months ago that I missed Mexican food. You can't get the good stuff here," he told her with a grin. "And Lindsay said her grandmother had an amazing recipe for enchiladas. So I asked for it. You're my first guinea pig."

That statement, that small testament to her place in his life, made Jen's hand tremble as she raised another bite to her mouth. Usually, she could clear a table—one of the many ways in which she and Lindsay had bonded—but she found herself unable to eat more than a few bites of anything. Her stomach was in knots.

She'd had valentines before, men who presented her with merry widows and crotchless panties. She'd been seduced and had seduced in return. She recognized any line, any maneuver. This was different. Adam was different from those other men, and not because he was too shy to buy crotchless panties.

Adam was seducing _her_, not her body, and for that she loved him even more.

Finally, dinner was over and he was offering her the corn soufflé. She took one bite and smiled at him. "It's delicious," she said, wishing she could give him back one iota of what she felt at that moment, of what he made her feel.

"Thanks," he said, grinning at her.

She smiled back and put down her fork. The few bites she'd managed to take sat like lead. Rubbing her stomach, she looked down at the smoothness of her abdomen, wondering why her body wasn't distended several feet. "I don't think I'll ever eat again."

He didn't laugh as she'd expected. Looking up, she found him staring at her with intense, searching eyes. Her forehead furrowed, and she licked her dry lips. "Adam?"

"I need to tell you sometihng," he said in a low voice.

"Okay. What's up?"

She tried to sound calm and rational, just as if her mind wasn't suddenly racing with the possibilities of how this might play out. He wouldn't break up with her on Valentine's Day. He wouldn't invite her over for dinner and then tell her he was seeing someone else. Not on Valentine's Day.

"Jen, I want you to know how much I care about you," he murmured.

She forced a laugh. "I sense a 'but' coming on."

"No," he said firmly. "No buts."

Her heart stopped beating for one long, drawn out breath. Then it threw itself back into motion like it was playing a solo at a Metallica concert.

"I've never fallen this hard or this fast, but I'm not scared." He stopped to check that she was still listening before carefully filling his lungs. "I know we've been moving slowly. Unconventionally slowly. And I wanted to explain. The reason I haven't tried to…" he trailed off nervously.

"Have sex with me?" she offered, hiding a smile at his blush.

"Yeah. That." He cleared his throat. "The reason was I could feel myself falling for you and it was so fast I didn't trust it. I thought it was too quick, that it would fizzle before we even started. Maybe I thought it was too good to be true or something."

Impatiently, he shook his head, and she bit back a smile as his hair flopped into his eyes. "I wanted to be sure of how I felt before I let us go too far. Before I—" He swallowed.

"Seduced me?" she filled in gently.

She could sense his frustration with the words, knew that he wasn't very good with them unless he had an objective message. Science was easy: present the facts; draw the only reasonable conclusion. Right now, he was mired in the messy world of feelings, which he had no problem dealing with, but expressing them was somewhat beyond his capacity. In essence, words were failing him.

His eyes met hers, and she tried really hard to get rid of the lump in her throat."I love you," he murmured, eyes locked on her face as her breath caught.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Jen took in a shaky breath. It took her a moment to compose herself enough to respond and, opening her eyes, she found Adam looking fairly worried by her silence.

"Jen?" he whispered.

She smiled a wide, dazzling smile and saw him blink, his breath catching this time as she leaned forward to the edge of her seat, her face mere inches away from his. "I love you, too."

Brushing her lips against his, Jen felt something give way between them, a wall that had been there for months; one she'd been unwittingly throwing herself against all along. But it was gone now, Adam loved her, and he was sliding a hand under her shirt, despite the fact that they hadn't moved from the dining room.

His fingers were cool against her suddenly flaming skin, and she knew she had to get closer, touch him more, or she'd combust.

Sliding her hands down his back to where his shirt met his belt, she tugged at the fabric until Adam pulled his mouth and hands away to yank the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Jen thought she saw it land on the rice bowl, but then Adam was sucking on her bottom lip and she forgot what a bowl was.

She couldn't get close enough with both of them sitting upright, couldn't straddle him, couldn't press her chest against his. Adam must have sensed her desperation because he stood, bringing her with him. His tongue trailed along her lip, and she opened on a moan as he began to push her backwards through his apartment.

Halfway to the bedroom, he pulled her sweater over her head, revealing the lacy red bra underneath. His mouth slipped away, and she sucked in air, trying to calm the driving need to haul him back to her. He lifted one finger to trace along the edge of the bra, the skin rising in goosebumps at the airy quality of the touch.

"For me?" he whispered, barely stroking the swell of her breast.

The heat gathering in her stomach made it hard to recognize the words. Jen shuddered, her eyes glazing over as the pleasure rushed through her. But they weren't even to the bedroom yet, and she tamped down on the mindlessness.

Collecting herself, she gave him a wicked smile then reached behind her to unhook the bra. His eyes flared wide as she slipped the straps down her arms and draped the lacy confection over his shoulder.

"All yours," she whispered back, her grin spreading as he tossed the bra down and closed the foot between them.

Jen had never had cause to realize that sex was better when you were in love with the person. Every sensation seemed deeper, just…_more_. She'd never responded to a man's touch quite like she did to Adam's gentle worshipping of her body.

After what felt like a thousand years of loving torture, he was inside her, and as Jen watched Adam's face above her, she felt a foreign emotion sweep through her. She was a modern woman and a fiercely independent one at that. She knew that she was responsible for her own orgasm and had always demanded it in the past. But now, watching him, she knew that things couldn't get better than this. And suddenly she didn't care if she came, as long as he found that pleasure.

Which he did five minutes later, and she was surprised into falling over the edge with him.

_**February 15**_

"Sex is fantastic."

Blinking, Lindsay stepped aside to let Jen into the apartment. "Uh, yes?" Then it clicked. "Oh."

Jen grinned, blindly tossing her jacket onto Lindsay's easy chair. "Yes, oh. Very big oh."

Shutting the door behind her, Lindsay snickered at the euphemism and trailed into the kitchen. "Beer?"

"No thanks." Sitting on the back of Lindsay's couch, Jen watched her best friend pull out a bottle for herself. "Seven times."

Pausing in the middle of popping the cap, Lindsay stared at her, unsure how to react to the information. She cleared her throat while she tried to subdue a blush. "Adam has stamina."

"Yes," Jen said with relish. "He does."

Lindsay took a swig of her beer and eyed Jen thoughtfully. Happiness made her glow. She was even more beautiful than usual, which hardly seemed fair when she wasn't even wearing makeup and was sporting torn jeans and a sweatshirt with old paint stains. Not Jen's usual attire.

"You came across town in that?" Lindsay asked, gesturing to Jen's outfit with her bottle neck.

"What?" Jen murmured, not paying attention.

Jen was so unconfident about her appeal to Adam that only one thing could have put that blissed out look on her face. Lindsay smirked, feeling a bit smug. "He said he loved you, didn't he?"

Jen didn't say a word, but the starry look in her eyes gave the truth away.

Lindsay had assumed she'd feel envious when Adam finally spoke the words. It had made sense that Jen would hear them before she did. Adam might be cautious, but Danny was an emotional brick wall. There was no guarantee Danny would _ever_ love her.

But as she waited, the envy didn't come. After watching Jen stumble her way into and through the relationship with Adam, continually doubting even the remotest possibility he felt the same, all Lindsay could feel for her was happiness.

Not that Lindsay had any doubts she was in love with Danny. On the contrary, she was positive she was.

As they'd lain in a mess of squished strawberries and spilled wine, she nearly told him, only managing to quell the urge after she'd drawn the breath to speak the words. Danny had even felt her heart beating faster and leaned down to press a kiss between her breasts, suggesting they move to the bedroom.

She knew he must suspect her feelings, given her notorious resistance of intimacy. The very fact that she let him spread food all over her must have been a glaring clue since he was well aware of her need for cleanliness. But with Danny the experience had been exciting and breathtaking.

"God, I'm giddy," Jen said as if the fact surprised her.

Lindsay was startled into laughter as she left her depressing thoughts behind.

_**February 28**_

"What're you doing tomorrow?"

Jerked out of the paperwork zone, Jen swallowed her gasp of surprise and raised her eyes to meet Adam's. "Hey. What are you doin' down here?"

"I'm waiting for results to come back from DNA," he told her, practically vibrating with energy.

"What's with you?" she asked, amused as his grin spread.

"What're you doing tomorrow?" he repeated.

"Tomorrow?" Jen frowned, trying to figure out what was special about that particular Friday, other than the fact that she miraculously had it off. "No plans. Why?"

He put one hand on her desk, the other on the back of her chair, and leaned towards her. "Spend the night tonight," he murmured instead of answering her question.

Jen could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. She wasn't easily embarrassed, but the way he'd said it had been so intimate. Not in a sexual way, in a quiet, loving sort of way.

She'd never had a man talk to her like that before. It had always been "Let's go to bed" or "I want you," never something as simple as a request to spend the night. A request that implied morning after benefits, like cuddling. Jen felt her heart warm in anticipation as a smile spread across her face. God, Adam was good at cuddling.

"What exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Ross?" she asked, letting her eyes run over his body.

Instead of his trademark blush, she saw one corner of his mouth lift in the sexiest smile she'd ever seen. Despite her seated position, she felt her knees turn to jelly. His eyes captured hers as her pulse leapt and her breath came faster.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he finally answered, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in his chest.

Jen couldn't help it, she whimpered.


	5. March 2008

A.N. For those who didn't read CGHA—which starts just before Lindsay leaves in season 3 and goes somewhat AU from there though I guessed L's history eerily well—or TSB, Danny met Lindsay's family twice: first when he went to Montana for the trial, and second when she was in the hospital for a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Also necessary to know: In this world—which I created before Sleight Out of Hand and the illumination of Lindsay's past—Lindsay was shot when her friends were.

_**March 4**_

Lindsay tilted her head to the side for a new perspective of the view in the mirror. She looked amazing. Her legs seemed a mile long in the vinyl pants and knife-thin stilettos. The push up bra gave her cleavage a masterful boost. The red lace shirt set off her naturally gold-touched skin and the golden highlights in her curls. The makeup was dramatic, making her look, for once, like the twenty-eight year old she was.

Jen's outfit had transformed her into one of those saucy vixens guys ogled as they walked by. She looked smoldering, sexy.

She felt ridiculous.

She looked nothing like herself. Peering in the mirror, she knew she could never pull this off. Sure, she'd turn heads when she walked by, most likely because these particular strappy heels made it impossible to move without stumbling. And she had practice _running_ in heels, that's how impossible these shoes were.

Danny would take one look at her and wonder what had happened to his girlfriend.

Glancing at her watch, she sighed. She had just enough time to compromise but not fix it entirely. Taking one last look at herself, she kicked off the heels and pulled desperately at the pants, which she'd already begun to sweat in.

She grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping the worn denim over her hips before reaching for her ankle boots. Shoving her feet inside, she closed her eyes in relief, loving the familiar crevices her feet had made in the leather.

The top would have to stay, she determined grimly, pulling a black shrug on over it, somewhat diminishing its strapless appeal. But she was comfortable now and Danny would at least recognize her.

Looking in the mirror again, she came to sinking realization that—as comfortable as she was—Jen was going to kill her.

She'd spent hours putting together the outfit for Lindsay, and had spent just as long detailing all the ways Danny would want to jump his girlfriend the moment he saw it. Lindsay had balked, of course, forcing Jen to spend another few hours gently nudging Lindsay into agreeing to wear the pants

Which was why, as soon as Danny and Adam disappeared into the crowd of the bar, Jen tried to verbally eviscerate her.

"I can't believe you," Jen hissed when she finally got Lindsay alone at the table.

Lindsay sighed. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it. I felt ridiculous."

"You looked amazing in those pants," Jen told her, still upset.

"I couldn't _walk_ in those pants. Besides, my jeans look good." Sudden panic filled her. "Right?"

Jen let out a long-suffering sigh. "You look great. But if you'd worn the pants—"

Reassured, Lindsay cut her off with a sharp glance. "Get over it, Jennifer."

Danny and Adam reappeared each holding a tray of shots and two beers. Lindsay's jaw dropped as Jen groaned beside her, not really seeming all that surprised.

"What are those?" Lindsay asked, pointing at the tray in Danny's hand.

"I heard a rumor you two like tequila," Danny said rather than answering and placed three shots in front of each of them.

Lindsay looked at Jen who glared at Adam. "You told him?" Lindsay asked wryly.

"I can't believe you squealed," Jen grumbled as Adam slid onto the stool next to her. When he set three shots in front of himself and Danny, Lindsay relaxed marginally.

Setting down a saltshaker and a cup of lime wedges, Danny moved his stool closer to hers and eased himself onto it. He was so close now he had to sit sideways, one foot hooked onto the bottom rung of her stool, his chest inches away from her shoulder.

"Anytime you wanna do shots, just let me know," he murmured in her ear and she closed her eyes to savor the way his breath brushed her.

Then she remembered the night he'd first spoken those words, a lifetime ago, and she opened her eyes to stare at him incredulously. As the grin spread across his face, she knew he remembered, too. It never would have occurred to her that he would remember everything with the same intensity she did.

A shy smile spread across her face and she dropped her chin to stare at him from under her eyelashes. "Ditto," she murmured.

Jen and Adam were still bickering lightly as Lindsay came back down to reality. "You give me this kind of information and I'm supposed to do nothing with it?" Adam asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes," Jen stressed.

"I think that's a little unreasonable."

"Okay, kids, time out," Danny said, picking up the saltshaker. Turning to Lindsay, he placed an arm along the back of her stool and gave her a lecherous grin. "Should we make it a body shot?"

Returning his gaze with a mock glare, she snagged the saltshaker out of his hand and licked her wrist. Sprinkling salt over the wet spot, she handed Jen the shaker and slid a glance back at Danny. He stared at her lips with a small smile, the heat in his gaze palpable.

Lindsay felt her breath catch, eyes locking with his as the world fell away again. Then the shaker was thrust between them, and Danny broke eye contact to lick his hand before covering it in salt.

"Salut," he said, picking up his shot.

The other three followed suit and tipped the alcohol back into their mouths. The burning trail made Lindsay shiver, her eyes opening to find Danny watching her. Reaching towards the cup, Lindsay pulled out a lime wedge and brought it to her mouth. Locking eyes with Danny, she lightly nibbled it, enjoying the way his gaze narrowed.

Giving in to the burn of the tequila, Lindsay bit gently into the lime and sucked at the juice. Danny watched her the whole time, ignoring Jen and Adam. Done with it, she offered him the wedge, surprised when he took it and brought it to his own mouth.

Okay so the man had seduction down to a science, Lindsay decided as she watched him suck on the lime. Just watching him reminded her of the wicked things he could do with that mouth. And meeting his eyes, she knew that was exactly the train of thought he wanted her on. Though, to be fair, she knew she'd started it.

"Do you two even want to be here?" Jen's dry voice broke through the heated haze surrounding them.

Jerking her gaze away from Danny's, Lindsay looked up in time to see Jen jerk as Adam ostensibly kicked her. "Ow," she muttered, shooting him a dark look.

"Sorry," Adam said, as nonchalantly as if he'd accidentally brushed her arm, and picked up his beer.

Lindsay bit back a smile and picked up her own bottle, glancing over as Danny did the same. "Are you seriously drinking Corona?"

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You hate Corona," she pointed out, eyebrow jerking upward.

"It's the only beer that goes with tequila." He shrugged as if this explained everything and she shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching.

Adam grabbed the salt-shaker and licked his hand. "That's not true, you know. Rasputin's pretty good with tequila."

"Anything is good with tequila," Jen told him, taking the salt from him and licking her wrist.

Lindsay nodded, waiting for Jen to finish with the shaker. "True."

"Rasputin's a dark beer," Danny said, sounding offended. "Dark beer is not good with tequila. Nothing is good with tequila except Corona."

"And limes," Jen added, just to piss him off.

He gave her a sarcastic smile. "Funny. No, really, you're hilarious."

"Have you ever had Rasputin with tequila?" Adam asked. Danny remained quiet and Adam nodded, raising a second shot glass. "Didn't think so."

"Bottom's up," Jen said, tipping the alcohol into her mouth.

Danny grumbled a bit to himself, so distracted by the beer argument he forgot to distract Lindsay with his lime display. She smiled again, watching him argue with Adam. He was adorable. Or maybe that was the tequila, which was already making her head buzz pleasantly.

It was difficult to keep track of the conversation with the way Danny kept leaning into her. His hand toyed with her curls, making a warmth spread through the rest of her body that had nothing to do with the six shots of tequila.

He was doing it on purpose, she knew. And she would have known that even without the smug smiles he threw at her every time her breath hitched.

Finally, Jen grew tired of watching them seduce each other at the table. "Oh, just go home. Adam and I will entertain ourselves."

Lindsay flushed, but Danny just nodded and hopped off his stool. "See you. Later, man," he added, clapping a thoroughly embarrassed Adam on the back.

The ride back to his apartment was tense with anticipation. He trailed his hand up and down her thigh teasingly as he stared out the window. By the time they reached his building, Lindsay was biting back moans.

He opened the door with his smirk fixed in place and she brushed past him, trailing her fingers across his stomach. She heard him chuckle as she paused behind him to watch his fingers flip the locks.

As soon as he turned, she shoved him against the wall. "Whoa—" he said, eyes wide, right before she latched her mouth over his.

The man really didn't need much encouragement. She suppressed a smile as his hands pulled her closer; one tunneling into her hair, the other sliding into the small arch her back made as she balanced on her toes. But that was it. His hold was loose; she could break it any time she wanted.

He was offering her something she was fairly certain he'd never offered another woman: full control. So, like the polite woman she was, she took it.

_**March 5**_

She'd never had drunken sex before, hadn't even really been drunk with a man in a long, long time—since Connor really. It had been fun. Messy, rough, fast, exciting and satisfying to a point. The only problem was she hadn't been able to get enough of him. Luckily, he seemed to have the same problem and hadn't strayed far from her until they passed out, still entangled, in the wee hours of the morning.

When she woke, Lindsay's mouth felt fuzzy, gross, and the sound of the shower made her head pound. Groaning, she rolled out of the bed and staggered into Danny's kitchen, determined to nip her hangover in the bud.

Once in the kitchen, however, her legs had other thoughts. She barely managed to make it to the table before her knees gave out, and she collapsed into one of Danny's fashionably mismatched chairs. Folding her arms on the tabletop, Lindsay let her head fall into them as her whole body clenched with the pain that centered in her temples.

"Lindsay?"

Moaning to let him know she was at least alive, she buried her face deeper in the darkness provided by her arms and rode out the nauseating swaying of the chair. She sensed Danny crouch next to her then felt his hand on her knee until the nausea passed and she could lift her head.

Looking at him, clear-eyed, hair wet from the shower, she ached with the longing to touch him. His eyes flitted around her face as he assessed the situation, his face just slightly lower than hers in his position. Instead of skimming her fingers over the shaven parts of his jaw, she narrowed her eyes.

"How can you never have hangovers?" she asked, hating him with every fiber of her being.

"I've been doing this a lot longer than you have," he pointed out. He sounded shockingly pedantic for one talking about partying. "You can't just jump right in and not expect to get burned."

Lindsay glared at him as he smoothed the hair back from her face with a gentle hand. "So you're saying that I need to start smaller with the drunken sex sprees?"

Shaking with silent laughter, Danny stood and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. He smelled of soap, whatever fabric softener had been on sale when he shopped, and the unique Danny scent that always made her squeeze her eyes shut and ache to get closer.

"Let me make you some breakfast."

"Will that help?" she muttered, no longer sure.

He ignored her pessimism. "What do you feel like?" he asked, opening his fridge.

"Enchiladas." Danny looked up and she met his eyes, equally surprised. "I have no idea where that came from."

He tossed her a crooked smile. "I'm not sure I got the makings for enchiladas. I'm not even sure I know how to make enchiladas."

Perking up, she smiled smugly. "Ha, something I can make that you can't."

"You'll have to prove that to me, Montana," he said, leaning back down in front of the open fridge. "How about eggs?"

Her stomach roiled. "Uh, no."

"Toast?"

"No."

Danny glanced back at her, looking concerned, then turned back to the contents of his fridge. "Bacon?"

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to measure her stomach's temperament. "Yes," she said slowly.

Pulling out a package, he set it on the counter. "Anything else with your slices of fried meat?" he asked, his voice dry.

Glad to have found something her stomach wouldn't reject on principle alone, Lindsay sighed in satisfaction. "God, that sounds good."

Danny shook his head in amusement and opened a cupboard, rifling through the contents. "Pancakes maybe?"

"You can make flapjacks?" Lindsay asked, staring at him across the kitchen from her seat at the small table.

Every time he cooked for her, she was astonished by his versatility in the kitchen. Lasagna, chicken marsala, pierogi, and now breakfast as well? She really needed to learn how to cook.

Danny looked up and smirked. "Flapjacks?"

"Oh, like, _pancakes_ makes any more sense," she said, drawing out the word mockingly.

"You want breakfast or not, Montana?" he asked, stepping away from the counter. "Cuz I could leave you to your own devices."

"Fine," she said, sniffing and rising to her feet. Immediately, she grabbed hold of the back of her chair. Danny started towards her, eyes worried, and she attempted to wave him off. "I'm fine. Just point me in the direction of the pans, and I'll get right to it."

"You think you're cooking in my kitchen?" he asked, still striding across the room.

"I'm not that bad." She tried not to pout as he wrapped his hands around her arms and eased her back into the chair.

"Your fridge is where take-out cartons go to die," he countered as she settled in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

"I can bake."

"Baking is not cooking. I need a pie, I'll call you, but you're not setting off the fire alarm at seven on a Saturday trying to make bacon."

"It's only seven?" she said incredulously. "What the hell are we doing up at seven?"

"Let me just make breakfast before you blow, all right?" he shot back, ignoring the accusation in her question.

"I am not going to blow," she sneered, just as her stomach dropped.

"Right," he muttered, turning the heat on under a burner. "Head down."

Lindsay let her head thunk back down onto her arms without further argument, trying to concentrate on the sounds Danny made in the kitchen instead of the constant movement of her stomach. He was easy to concentrate on, really, considering that's what she'd found herself spending most of her time doing in the last month or so. And the sizzle of the bacon was comforting, a sound she associated with long, lazy mornings in her mother's kitchen.

"Drink."

Lifting her head slightly, Lindsay focused first on Danny's back retreating into the kitchen and then on the glass of cranberry juice next to her arm. "Thanks."

"Head down," he reminded her, and she watched him expertly flip a pancake by barely jerking the pan.

"I've been drunk before, you know." The words tasted sour in her mouth, and she dropped her head again.

"I just have a lot of practice with this," he said.

"Yeah," she moaned into the blackness between her arms. "You look like hell."

_**March 18**_

Natalia Messer was, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman Lindsay had ever seen up close. She even surpassed Jen, which Lindsay had never thought possible—not that she was biased or anything. Danny's mother had to be at least fifty years old, but she didn't look a day older than 35.

Knowing she would never age so well, Lindsay goggled at her for a long moment. She took in the perfectly pressed blouse and knee length skirt. The woman looked fresh, even on the grimy New York streets. Lindsay thought vaguely that this might be the test of being a true New Yorker. Ruefully thinking of her own rumpled clothing, she stifled a sigh.

They stared at each other for a moment. "Hello, Mrs. Messer," Lindsay said finally, willing to go first if it would end the staring contest.

One of her perfectly curved eyebrows lifted briefly then settled again into that serene expression. "Call me Natalia."

Lindsay knew this was an automatic reply, not something the older woman actually meant, so Lindsay merely gave her a small smile. Danny's mother tipped her head to the side, and Lindsay began nervously stirring the sugar into her coffee. Clearing her throat, she ignored the fact that Danny barely mentioned his mother's name was Natalia and wracked her brain for anything Danny might have told her about his family.

It was odd how willing the man was to talk about his sexual experience with a coworker, but never spoke of his mother to his girlfriend. They'd been official for over three months now, and she didn't know anything about his family aside from Louie.

She would have liked to be prepared for this meeting. At least, have had some knowledge of the woman now that she'd had her son's tongue in her mouth. It just seemed rude to be entirely in the dark.

Then again, it was more difficult to look her in the eye thinking of what Danny had been doing the night before. Lindsay willed herself not to blush. Considering Natalia appeared to have the eyes of a hawk, Lindsay doubted it was working.

Natalia was not a large woman. In fact, she was barely an inch taller than Lindsay without heels, forcing Lindsay into the unusual situation of meeting another person's eyes. And Natalia's eyes currently had that searching look Danny's took on very rarely, usually when he was trying to read a suspect. Lindsay swallowed again, hoping she was passing muster.

"So you're Lindsay," Natalia said, a very faint Italian lilt lurking beneath the Staten Island accent.

"That's me."

Calmly, Lindsay met the other woman's gaze as she stared, obviously still making up her mind about Lindsay. Since there wasn't much she could do about it, Lindsay just stood there, awaiting the judgement. She was really bad with mothers.

Finally, Natalia cleared her throat. "Come to dinner on Sunday. Four o'clock."

There was an unspoken challenge in both his mother's tone and the lift of her brows. Feeling her backbone harden, Lindsay raised her chin a fraction. "Thank you. I'll see you on Sunday."

Amusement flashed across Natalia's expression then was hidden behind a polite, close-mouthed smile. "See you then."

When Natalia moved to leave, Lindsay turned back to her coffee. "How did you know I was Danny's mother?"

Glancing back at the other woman, Lindsay hesitated before speaking. "The eyes," she explained, oddly embarrassed. They were the same startling shade of blue as her son's. "Never thought I'd see two more like them."

Finally, Natalia smiled widely, and Lindsay saw where Danny got his charm. "I'm going to like you."

With a swish of her skirt, the older woman was gone, leaving Lindsay to stare after her wondering what she'd done right. In a daze, Lindsay turned and made her way back to the lab, not remembering what route she took to get back to the office she shared with Danny and Hawkes.

Danny was typing away at the computer and flashed her a grin as she sat down across from him. "What, you didn't bring me any?"

"Your mother tracked me down."

She'd meant to be casual about it, somehow work it into the conversation. Something like "Hey, Adam has that trace you were waiting for. Oh, and, by the way, your mother seems to be stalking me." But Lindsay was feeling very off-balance, and Danny looked far too peaceful for her comfort.

His startled eyes flew to hers. "What? She what?"

"She found me when I was getting coffee. How did she even know it was me?" Lindsay suddenly wondered.

Lost in the moment, Lindsay hadn't questioned that Natalia had recognized her. It had seemed perfectly logical that Natalia had spotted her with the same ease as Lindsay. Staring into Danny's surprisingly worried gaze, it didn't seem as innocent.

Danny's mouth moved but no words came out. Watching him slowly slide into panic, Lindsay's heart sank. Was it really that horrific that she'd met his mother?

Shaking it off, she told him what he needed to know, feeling the alarm tugging at her consciousness. "She asked me to dinner on Sunday. Four o'clock."

Though he still looked shell-shocked, a trace of amusement rose in his eyes and Lindsay noted yet again how much he looked like his mother. Even their mouths rose up that same little bit more on the left when they smiled.

"Yeah, they usually are at four," he murmured then the amusement faded and he shook his head. "Back up. Coffee cart?"

"I turn around and there she is," Lindsay told him tensely, gesturing with the cardboard cup.

"Just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk?"

Lindsay nodded firmly. "Yes. About three feet away from me, yes."

"I can't believe this," he muttered. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sighed and adjusted his glasses. "What exactly did she say?"

"Nothing. She just stared at me. Then she said I was Lindsay and I said yes and then she stared some more."

"And then she asked you to dinner?" Danny said, clearly confused.

"No." The panic she'd been keeping at bay was starting to clutch at her throat. "No, no. She didn't ask. She _told_."

Danny nodded, looking away into a middle distance. "That sounds like her."

Silence settled over them, and Lindsay struggled to control her breathing. He must have heard the raspiness of it since his eyes rose to watch her. "I can get you out of this."

His voice was gentle, but it didn't do anything to ease the hurt. She tried to tamp down on it, letting her eyes slide away from his. So her boyfriend didn't want to introduce her to his mother. Big deal, it was early in the relationship. What guy _did_ want to introduce his girlfriend to his parents? It smacked too much of permanence.

But now Lindsay found herself faced with a conundrum: Respect boyfriend's wishes and cross his mother, or go to dinner and make him uncomfortable.

No contest.

"Forget it. I already told her I'd go."

Danny's eyes narrowed to squinting slits at her tone. Ignoring his baffled expression, she took a deep drag on her coffee and swiveled to face her computer. A pregnant pause rose between them as Lindsay pretended to read something on her screen. She couldn't think about anything other than his obvious horror.

"What'd you think of her?"

She refused to turn back to him, but the nerves in his voice had her sliding her eyes to him. "What?"

He fiddled with the folder on his desk. "Was she…rude?"

"Brisk, not rude."

"But not friendly," he guessed, sounding resigned.

He seemed so genuinely worried about her feelings that Lindsay thawed a little. "Considering that she probably thinks I've seduced you already, that's not surprising."

"Believe me, she knows me better than that."

Had he really just implied she wasn't his type? Was he telling her that his mother probably thought Lindsay wasn't good enough for her son?

At her incredulous expression, he quickly added, "To think I wouldn't have been the seducer."

Completely tense and angry at herself for jumping to conclusions, Lindsay tried not to bang at the keyboard as she checked her email. Danny turned back to his own computer and stared blankly at the screen for a few moments.

"She didn't say anything to upset you, did she?"

Glancing at him, she saw a faint line between his brows. He was adorably confused and clearly unprepared for the situation. Relenting, Lindsay gave him a gentle smile. "Do you not want me to go, Danny?"

He blinked at her. "What? Sure I want you to come."

"Convincing," she said dryly.

He sighed. "It's not that I don't want you there."

"Then what is it?"

"If it was just Mom, I'd have no problems. But my dad's going to be there, cousins…" He trailed off and shoved his fingers under his glasses.

Something about his tone convinced her that he didn't want her within ten feet of his father. Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember one other time he'd mentioned his father. She thought he'd mentioned having gone on fishing trips with him when he was younger, but that was it. Nothing else.

Having isolated the problem, she cleared her throat. "Messer, you've been subjected to my crazy family twice now. You don't want to get me back for that?"

He smiled wanly. "Well sure."

"Good," she said primly. "So what time should we head over?"

He chuckled nervously and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I go to mass with them on Sunday, remember?"

She did remember that, now that he'd mentioned it. Renewed panic had her voice cracking. "I have to show up alone?"

His eyes widened. "Uh, no, of course not. I'll pick you up. Jesus. Stop looking like that," he told her desperately.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to get a hold of the emotions that were making her breath come too fast. "I'm fine," she croaked, and promptly clapped her hands over her face.

When she dropped her hands, Danny was watching her warily. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." She took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Does she do this to all your girlfriends?

He winced. "She's never done anything like this before. I don't know what she was thinking."

"How did she know it was me?" Lindsay asked again, this time actually addressing Danny with the question.

Danny hesitated. "She might have seen a picture of you."

"Might have?"

His cheeks began to tinge pink as he cleared his throat. "There's that one from last year's Christmas party."

Lindsay tilted her head to the side. "And how might she have seen this picture?"

"It might possibly—"

Her head was starting to hurt from the hypotheticals. "Danny."

"I showed it to her," he said quickly.

A warm feeling spread through her chest. "Oh," she murmured quietly.

_**March 23**_

Lindsay stepped inside behind Danny and peeked around his shoulder. The house opened directly onto a small entryway and to the left a double wide doorway that might once have held French doors lead to a large living room. The living room was stuffed to capacity with people and Lindsay blanched as Danny edged her inside.

Pure panic swept through her. She'd expected a few people, his parents, a couple of cousins, maybe some kids. She'd never entertained the idea that his _entire_ family would be present.

Danny's fingers clenched at her back, though he quickly smoothed them out again. For some reason, his hand felt more like protection than encouragement and Lindsay tried not to shy away from the man in front of her. She'd never shied away from anyone in her life.

"Hello, Mr. Messer," Lindsay said, making sure Danny felt how relaxed she was.

The man—the spitting image of Louie aged twenty years—eyed her. She knew the verdict was unfavorable before he spoke.

Nodding at her, he glanced at Danny, his eyes clearly broadcasting his confusion. "Good to meet you, Miss Monroe."

"Detective." His eyes swung back to hers and she raised her chin a notch, fixing him with a steely look. "Detective Monroe."

A small smile quirked his lips—lips that looked shockingly like Danny's for someone who didn't resemble him the slightest bit. He nodded again, this time keeping his eyes locked on hers, but Lindsay didn't fool herself that she'd passed his test.

"I think Mommy's in the kitchen," Danny murmured in her ear.

Lindsay nodded, though she wasn't sure he'd been speaking to her and not his father, letting Danny urge her forward. She felt Michael Messer's eyes on her as the moved back into the hall, and Danny's hand fisted against her back again as he led her into the depths of the house.

If possible, the din grew louder as they moved through the hallway. And, by the time they reached the doorway, Lindsay was overwhelmed by the number of voices.

The kitchen was bright, mostly due to the large windows on two walls of the room, and stuffed to overflowing with people of all ages. Lindsay froze in her tracks, even as Danny bumped into her from behind.

No one had noticed them yet except for a small girl playing with a doll near the doorway. When Lindsay spotted her, the child smiled shyly and ducked her head, alerting no one. Inexplicably, Lindsay felt this little girl to be a kindred spirit, adrift in a sea of noisy Italians, and she wondered how she'd managed to find a small corner for herself. Perhaps the child could share the knowledge.

"Eh, Mommy," Danny called over the noise, finally giving up on trying to urge her over the threshold.

Slipping past her, he met his mother halfway across the kitchen and leaned down to kiss her cheek. The kitchen slowly fell silent as Natalia turned to peer around her son's bulk.

"Lindsay," Natalila said with a smile, making Lindsay blink at the genuine happiness to see her. "Come in. I'll introduce you."

Despite her words, Natalia didn't wait for Lindsay to come forward. Instead, she grasped Lindsay's arm in a firm grip and dragged her into the middle of the room.

"Everyone," she called as if to gather attention—pointless since no one could look away from Lindsay's face. "This is Lindsay. Danny brought her. Be nice."

The last was said so sternly even Lindsay wanted to be nice to herself, but no one else seemed to be paying attention. They were all too busy staring. Some smiled, a few called out hello, but then a woman about Danny's age stepped forward.

"Hello, Lindsay. It's wonderful to meet you finally," the woman said, pulling Lindsay into a hug. "I'm Julia, one of Danny's cousins."

Lindsay managed a small smile. "It's nice to meet—"

"I'm Joey," a man said, stepping forward to kiss both her cheeks, pushing Julia out of the way in the process.

"It's—" Lindsay tried again, interrupted by a new man.

"I'm John."

And the routine repeated as each member of Danny's family came forward to introduce themselves, pushing and elbowing each other to get a look at Danny's girlfriend. Danny had stayed near her for the entire operation, but Lindsay still felt vulnerable surrounded by so many strangers.

Lindsay tried to keep them all straight, but they quickly became a sea of faces and jumbled names. She had better luck with the kids, possibly because the kids had little interest in her existence and didn't stare quite so intently. It was easier to speak with them.

"And that over there is Sophia," a man—whom Lindsay thought might be named Charlie—told her, pointing at the girl with the doll. "Quiet one."

"Your daughter?" Lindsay asked, savoring the novelty of being able to get a word in.

"No, she's Dylan's girl. He had to work," Julia explained, unconcerned about elbowing her cousin aside.

Lindsay opened her mouth but stopped as she felt a slight touch against her hand, so whisper soft it could have been a small burst of air. Looking down, she found the child in question blinking large green eyes up at her.

"Hello."

Genetics was an odd system with traits leaping across generation boundaries seemingly at random. The little girl looked so much like Danny Lindsay would have assumed he was Sophia's father. Even knowing it was impossible, it took Lindsay a moment to find her voice.

"Hello," she finally murmured back, her lips curving into a smile. "I'm Lindsay."

"My name is Sophia," the child answered politely. "But you can call me Sophie."

Lindsay's smile widened. "Thank you."

"Can I call you Linny?" Sophie asked, her big eyes shy but frank.

Kneeling, Lindsay nodded, amused to hear that Sophie couldn't yet pronounce the letter 'l' and, thus, spoke her name as "Inny." She couldn't help thinking that it made her sound a bit like a bellybutton. "Sure you can."

"Thank you," Sophie said primly. Then she solemnly held out her doll. "This is Annalisa."

Lindsay schooled her features into a similarly serious expression. "It's very nice to meet you, Annalisa. That's a very big name for such a tiny girl."

"She's small," Sophie admitted, scrutinizing the doll very carefully. Raising her eyes to Lindsay's again, she shrugged. "But she's got a big heart."

Lindsay blinked. This was definitely an interesting two year old. "Does she?" she said, unable to think of anything else.

Suddenly she wished Brad had married Shirley Williams when he'd had the chance and settled down like any normal rancher. Then maybe she'd have some experience with tiny little people. The most recent interaction she'd had with a child had been during a case. And this particular little girl wasn't exactly your average two year old apparently.

"Sophie, why don't you go play with Riley and Katie?" Julia said, pointing to two of her own children.

Sophie looked up at her cousin as Lindsay straightened to her full height before at the other kids. To Lindsay's surprise, the child shuffled just a little bit closer and lightly touched her hand to Lindsay's thigh.

"Or you could keep me company while I meet everybody else," Lindsay offered.

Sophie bit her lip and looked up at Julia, who smiled serenely and shrugged. "She'll need someone to show her around," Julia told her. "I'm going to help Grandma finish with dinner."

Sophie glanced between them, obviously suspicious that they were pulling her leg. Then she simply slipped her hand into Lindsay's and waited. "I think we should go to the tv room," she said when Lindsay didn't move. "That's where everybody is."

Lindsay gestured with her empty hand. "Lead the way."

Sophie looked up at Danny, who'd stood silent through the whole ordeal. "You can wait here."

Lindsay glanced up to meet Danny's eyes and smiled at him. He carefully controlled his own amusement and managed a solemn expression. "Thanks, Soph."

And so a two year old was the one who introduced her to the few members of the Messer clan who'd been absent from the proceedings of the kitchen. Sophie led her through the house—the lower floor since she wasn't allowed to go up the stairs without supervision and she wasn't sure Lindsay counted—out into the yard and back to the kitchen where they arrived just in time to be told to wash their hands.

The family shuffled into the dining room and scurried for seats with such vigor that Lindsay knew this was an every-man-for-himself household much as her own had been. Those who weren't lucky enough to grab a seat at the table started their own raucous party in the living room where the children had been corralled. Lindsay wondered how Sophie was fairing with the older children; she hadn't seemed very keen on them.

However, Lindsay was soon distracted by the meal. She knew now where Danny had learned to cook and was suddenly grateful she'd never tried to make him anything. Natalia Messer's food was gourmet without the skimping. And Danny's family was intimidating. When Julia took the seat across from hers, Lindsay looked up with a relieved smile that Julia returned enthusiastically.

"Thank God," Julia said with a sigh. "She made cannelloni."

Lindsay looked at the dish being passed to Julia and eyed it thoughtfully. "Looks good."

Julia's hand stilled. "You've never had cannelloni?"

Blissfully unaware of her grave error, Lindsay shrugged. "No."

The people around her stilled and Danny winced. "Oh Lord," he muttered.

"Have you ever had antepasta?" another female cousin asked.

"Not homemade—" she began only to be interrupted by another inquiry.

Suddenly, her plate had disappeared, handed down the table through a line of hands, and it was being piled with food as she watched with a sense of shock. Danny took her hand and placed it on his thigh, trapping it under his own. "I am so sorry," he murmured to her, though she could see he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Oh, yes, you look it," she said wryly, then busily tried to thank everyone contributing to her meal.

She could feel his body shaking under her hand and squeezed his leg in warning. He jumped then plucked her hand off to bring it to his lips, brushing a kiss against her palm before replacing it on his leg and taking a dish from the cousin—Paolo?—on his other side.

The dinner passed in a daze of laughter and yelling. Lindsay was bombarded with questions and she suddenly realized why everyone had been so eager for the seating arrangements; all the women had wanted to sit near her.

At the end of the evening, Natalia walked her to the door as Danny collected their coats from wherever he'd put them. "You come back soon, Lindsay Monroe," she said, patting Lindsay's hand gently.

Lindsay smiled widely. "I'd love to. You have a wonderful family." It was what she'd been conditioned to say, the words pounded into her mind by a mother who was forcefully polite. But she meant it. Natalia's family—Danny's family—was wonderful.

"I can see why he's so attached to you," Natalia said and her words were such an unconditional approval that Lindsay felt the breath whoosh from her body. Then, in an effort to make certain Lindsay could no longer function, Natalia added, "He's never brought a woman here, you know."

Then Danny was back in the hallway with his usual flurry of energy. Handing Lindsay's jacket to her, he bent to kiss his mother's cheek, Italian easily mixing with the English spilling off his tongue as he said goodbye and teased her about not having made enough food, despite the bag of leftovers dangling from his hand. Lindsay was sure she'd never seen him so relaxed, so much himself as in that moment and she stared in awe until Natalia caught her eye with a smile.

"Put on your jacket, you'll freeze out there."

Danny glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "You not ready to leave, Montana?"

Before she tell him no, she wasn't, Natalia smacked him on the arm. "Ow," Danny muttered, sliding his own jacket on.

"You share those leftovers with Lindsay," Natalia said, pointing a finger at him sternly. "Those are for both of you, Daniel."

Daniel gave his mother a hurt look. "I was gonna share. I'm not a complete pig, you know."

The teasing followed Lindsay out into the night and she trailed Danny to the car dazedly. The energy draining from her in one sudden release. By the time Lindsay was safely buckled into the passenger seat, she was exhausted. She could feel Danny's eyes on her and knew they weren't moving from their parking space on his parents' street, but she couldn't seem to lift her lids enough to look at him.

"Your family is intense," she mumbled, the words coming out slurred and drunken.

Lindsay felt the shift in air as Danny laughed silently and forced her lids to rise for a few precious seconds. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, smiling widely at her.

His eyes were twinkling again. She loved it when they twinkled. "Don't be," she mumbled, her eyes shutting again. "They're wonderful."

She felt his fingertips, sliding against her cheekbone and her lips tugged upwards into a gentle smile. Her lids fluttered open just enough to see him leaning towards her. Oh. Letting them shut again, she lifted her chin the minute distance it took to let his lips catch hers. His fingers slid from her cheek into her hair, holding her to him as his mouth opened over hers, and she was lost.

And, suddenly, they were making out in the front seat.

Lindsay thought this insatiable lust had been a reaction to the alcohol, something that would never happen again while sober and parked in front of his parents' house. Despite that assumption, however, she nearly dragged him over the center console to try and get closer to his heat, and it still wasn't enough. It was never enough.

"Fucking jackets," he whispered roughly, pulling at the buttons on her coat.

Her own hands were sliding under the fabric of his shirt, one of those too tight ones that drove her crazy. "Danny, we can't take them off, we'll freeze."

Then, as his tongue ran over the newly uncovered flesh of her neck, she couldn't get out of the coat fast enough. "Turn the engine on," she told him breathlessly before taking his earlobe between her teeth.

His breath rushed past her own ear, making her moan. "It's already running," he muttered.

It took her a moment, but she got it, and lightly pushed at his shoulder though she was absurdly grateful when he didn't move away. "I meant the car."

He grinned as his lips descended onto hers again. "Right," he said between kisses. "I knew that."

Suddenly a loud rapping made them both jump, Lindsay's eyes watering as she banged her nose against his. "Ow," she muttered as Danny mumbled an expletive.

"Get a room," someone called from outside.

Wanting to sink into the seat and disappear, Lindsay groaned. Danny glared into the darkness, obviously able to identify the speaker though unable to locate him. Sighing, he grasped the key and turned the engine to life. "Do you ever want to murder your own family?"

"Have you met my brother?" she countered, and he laughed.


	6. April 2008, Part I

As always, big thanks to scoob2222 for her beta-ing. April was particularly heinously long, so grazie darling!

A.N. So, I was trolling the CBS official site for CSI:NY and I found it there in black and white: Danny is from Staten Island. Okay, fine, I give up. The Bronx marble comment was a toss-away line. I get it. So, from here on in, Danny is from Staten Island.

_**April 2**_

Lindsay absently picked up the bowl of popcorn from between her and Danny's legs and settled it in her lap, her eyes fixed on the tv. As the nubile young woman's screams grew louder, Lindsay pressed the bowl tighter to her chest, the pressure providing a tether to the nice, safe reality of Danny's living room.

But when Danny reached down to take another handful, his hand met the denim of his jeans. Engrossed in the movie, he blindly moved his hand, attempting to locate the bowl to no avail. Finally, frustrated, he looked down and spotted it cradled against Lindsay's body.

"Montana," he snapped.

The sound of his voice, loud in her ear, startled her, and she nearly threw the bowl in the air. She shot him a glare as her heart rate slowed. "Don't _do_ that during a horror movie, Danny."

"What the hell?" He gestured roughly at the bowl.

Looking down, Lindsay blinked at the sight of it nestled in her lap. "Oh. Sorry," she said, holding it out to him.

"Why do you always do that?" He snatched the bowl out of her hand and forcefully set it between them, his breath huffy.

"I'm not used to sharing, I guess," she told him apologetically, trying to keep her temper in check. She'd pressed one of his buttons—one she'd been very aware of—which was her fault, not his; she had to _remain calm_ and not yell back at him.

He muttered something she couldn't hear and she leaned towards him, keeping her expression contrite. "What was that?"

"Nothing, Montana. Leave it."

Her eyes narrowed, contrition fleeing as her temper began to eat at her control. "Oh no. You don't get to call me Montana when you're mad at me."

Danny shifted on the couch, his eyes locked on the screen, though she could tell he wasn't watching. "I'm not mad. I'm annoyed."

"It's popcorn."

"No, it's the principle," he told her, over-enunciating through clenched teeth.

"The principle of snack foods?" she suggested dryly.

"Oh, mockery. That's rich coming from the remote dominatrix."

Lindsay began to retort then paused as his words sank in. "Dominatrix?"

A gust of air left Danny's lungs in a harsh sigh. "You know what I mean."

Lifting the remote—which was, as usual, clutched in her hand—she caressed the battery pack. "It's been a bad remote," she said in a throaty voice.

Danny rolled his eyes, but she could see a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Cut it out, Monroe."

"I think it needs to be punished. Do you need to be punished, remote?" she cooed to the plastic electronic.

Danny's expression shifted to openly amused. "You're a freak, you know that, right?"

Lindsay let her jaw drop open and gasped in faux shock. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, his smile turning into a smirk.

Lindsay set the remote down. "Now who's being a bad boy?"

A spark of interest lit his eyes as she rose to her knees on the couch cushion. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Montana. I'm a perfect gentleman."

"So says the man who yells about popcorn."

"_Stealin_' popcorn, Montana. Stealin." Running a finger down her cheek, he smiled softly. "Sorry."

The knot of discomfort she'd felt eased at the word. She knew it was a pet peeve of his, and she couldn't help doing it, so he always got mad. But she hated having him mad at her.

A smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, sorry isn't enough, cowboy."

"Oh really?"

Biting back the smile, she shook her head and tried to look woebegone. "I just don't believe you mean it."

He watched, eyes darkening, as she set the bowl aside and crawled over him to settle herself in his lap. "What can I do to prove it to you?"

"I'm pretty sure you'll think of something," she whispered, locking her arms around his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. It was getting long enough to run her fingers through, which she was surprised to find she adored.

"Hmm," he whispered back. He was so close she swore she felt his lips brush hers, but the touch was so gentle it could have been his breath. "Let me think a minute."

Several minutes later, Danny had managed to maneuver her beneath him on the couch, his body stretched over hers. The screams in the background no longer bothered Lindsay as Danny's tongue flicked over hers. Then his stubble was scratching the sensitive skin of her neck, shoulders, all the way down to her breasts as he slipped each button of her shirt through its hole.

He lifted her slightly and tugged the shirt from her body, his mouth latched onto the swell of one breast as she moaned incoherently beneath him. She could feel every inch of his body stretched out against her, and she shifted, trying to get closer.

He groaned, taking advantage of her slightly arched back to unhook her bra in one fluid movement of his fingers. He didn't bother removing it, instead tugging one cup down under her breast, making it rise higher on her chest wall. Impatience lanced through his body, palpable to Lindsay as he circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh God," she whispered, tormented by the pleasure.

Her eyes slammed closed, her fingers clutched at his hair. Then his teeth lightly scraped at her, and she felt a wave of pure fire flash through her. Every nerve ending stood straight up as her skin broke out in goosebumps everywhere his body touched hers, even through the layers of clothing they both still wore.

Mindlessly petting his head, a breathy moan left her mouth. He growled, sucking her hard into his mouth, and she felt herself being pushed closer and closer to the brink. The pleasure was everywhere, her toes, legs, arms, ears, zinging through the fingers tugging at his hair.

When he trailed a wet kiss across her chest to attend to the other distended nipple, she knew she had to act fast or turn to a shuddering mass of jello in his arms. She needed him with her when she came, needed him to be a part of her. It was never as satisfying if he wasn't there inside her, sharing the pleasure with her. And she needed to do something to get him as riled as she was.

"Danny," she whispered, trying to get his attention without distracting him too much from his task.

Misunderstanding, he brought his lips back to her mouth, and it felt so good she let him chase her thoughts away for another few minutes. Then the need rose to a higher pitch, and she squirmed impatiently against him.

Ripping her mouth away, she caught his cheeks between her hands to still him. "What?" he asked breathlessly. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and tried to catch her breath. "I want you to teach me something new," she whispered.

"What?" he repeated, clearly losing interest in the conversation as his fingers went to the button on her jeans.

"Teach me something new."

"Whaddya mean?"

Quickly, he slid the zipper down and started pushing her jeans off her legs. She kicked them away and pulled his shirttails out of his pants then got distracted as he whipped the shirt over his head and all his soft, soft skin was laid out before her.

She ran her hands over him, biting her lip against a moan. How was it possible for a man to be so beautiful? She couldn't help but nip lightly at the skin of his shoulder, loving the way his chest shivered against her.

"Whaddya mean new?" he asked again, his hand sliding between her legs to push her knees apart.

"Something new to me. I'm sure you know plenty I don't," she mumbled, too busy feeling his back muscles ripple as he settled between her legs to really concentrate on the conversation.

Danny laughed, sending a puff of air against her skin, and she arched up, brushing her hips against his. They both froze, faces inches apart, as their breath stuttered out to caress the other's face.

Then they were tearing at the few clothes separating their bodies. He was wearing the jeans with the damn button fly again, and she tried to rein her brain in enough to remember how buttons worked. She vaguely noticed Danny toss her panties to the side before his fingers were sliding up to her heat.

Her fingers clutched into the fabric of his waistband, desperately trying to bring him closer as his fingers brushed exactly the right place. Sobbing slightly, she pushed his pants down his thighs and then brought her feet up to finish off the job. Danny kicked them away before sliding down her body and roughly slinging her legs over his shoulders.

His tongue swept over her center once before she managed to get the words out. "No, no."

He raised his head, his face adorably confused. "What? What's wrong?"

"I want you with me," she gasped, trying to sit up and move away from the breath that was still stimulating her raw nerve endings.

Danny frowned, obviously sensing exactly how close to the edge she was. "Next time. First—"

"No," she said desperately. "I need you, now. Now, Danny, please."

Something seemed to break inside him. He nearly toppled her off the couch as he blindly reached for the pants now festooning the floor. Pulling out his wallet, he yanked the condom from its usual pocket and sat back on his knees as he tried to calm his fingers enough to open it.

Triumphant, Lindsay indulged in a little flippancy as she tried to tamp down on the orgasm that was still building in her blood just from the sight of him kneeling between her splayed legs. "You really shouldn't keep those in there," she told him breathlessly. "Body heat weakens the latex."

Danny snorted even though she could see a fine trembling in his fingers as he started to roll the condom on. "I think it would have to stay in there for more than a day."

And she was excellent at forcing him to provide a fresh one almost daily. Hiding a smug smile, she sat up in one smooth motion to grasp his shoulders and press against him, bringing her mouth to lick behind his ear in that place she knew he liked. His hands fumbled in even that habitual movement, and she ran her nails down his back.

"What good would it do if it stayed in there?" she asked, serenely continuing the conversation as Danny shuddered under her hands.

After a moment, he controlled the involuntary shivers, and his eyes flew up to hers. A small dangerous smile flashed across his face then her arms were locked behind his neck, her wrists encased in his hands. She was trapped, completely under his control. Even when he let go of her wrists she couldn't move; the feeling of his hands trailing down her body paralyzed her. His fingers were sliding under her ass to cup her, then squeezing, and, impossibly, she felt her blood heat even more.

His lips brushed her ear roughly, his stubble scraping her, as he said, "You wanna learn something new, eh, _tesoro_?"

"Yes," she whimpered as his tongue came out to trace the shell of her ear.

She had one moment to feel his muscles tense against her. Then, so quickly she was dizzy, she was flying off the couch in his arms. Her legs came up to wrap around his waist just before her back connected with the wall of his living room. She landed lightly, his arms keeping her from absorbing any of the shock, and even that made her moan in pleasure.

One of his hands reached up to tangle in her curls, and he gently tugged her head back and to the side, arching her body and exposing her neck to his mouth. He trailed his lips up the skin, nipping with his teeth here and there along the way, to her ear. "You ever done it like this?"

"What?" she asked, unable to understand the most basic of words at this point.

Danny chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, almost feral. For one long, drunken moment, she hung in the balance, too mindless with lust to realize what was about to happen. Then she cried out as he slammed into her body, his breath expelling into her ear.

"Shh," he murmured, but he sounded amused. "You have to be quiet or the neighbors will hear us."

"I can't," she moaned, head dropping back to thunk loudly against the wall that connected to his neighbor's apartment. He didn't pause in his thrusts, making her gasps turn into whimpers. "Danny."

Leaning down, he caught her lips with his, muffling another moan. His kiss never failed to distract her and this time was no different. She barely recognized the pause in his movements.

Then he slammed into her again at the same time as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her mind splintered from the sensations. She couldn't get enough as he rolled his hips against hers, sliding hot and hard inside, and she tightened her grip on him.

He grinned against her mouth then pulled away. "Ya like that?" he growled with a smile a few centimeters from her lips. His breath fluttered over them and even that was made of intense pleasure.

"Shut up," she gasped, pulling his lips back to hers to stop his chuckle.

His tongue slid back inside as soon as her lips parted, and the flick of his tongue on hers unexpectedly threw her over the edge. The orgasm was so intense it had an edge of pain to it that forced her nails into the skin of his back. He groaned in her ear as she rode out the pleasure. Then she was boneless in his arms, trying to lean more of her weight on the wall than against him.

When her mind fully returned, his chest was heaving, forehead pressed against her shoulder. But he wasn't done. "Oh God," she whimpered as he shifted her weight in his arms, causing himself to move deeper inside.

"I can't, Danny," she said, her chest rising and falling far too quickly. "No more, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he murmured, cutting her off her voice as he began to thrust again.

It was even quicker this time, her body never having fully recovered from the first round. She went off like a rocket just a few minutes later, and, moments after that, the feeling of Danny, finally spent and rocking gently into her sent her off a third, less intense time. Stumbling around so his back was against the wall, Danny slid down to the floor, Lindsay still cradled protectively in his arms.

Some time later—and hour? a few minutes?—she felt him stir under her. "Was that new enough for you?" he asked, wincing as he tried to fold his legs and one of his knees cracked. "You're gonna kill me, Montana."

Lindsay buried her face in his neck and sighed contentedly.

_**April 3**_

The phone rang just as Lindsay was pouring the chocolate chips in the large bowl of batter. Glancing at the offending object, Lindsay frowned and paused, the bag hanging in the balance and dropping one chip at a time into the bowl. It was Friday afternoon. Everyone she knew was at work. Who could be—Someone from Montana?

A horrible foreboding settled in her stomach and she unceremoniously dumped the entire bag of chips in. It would be nearly impossible to mix, but she'd have to sort it out later. Right now someone must have died for her mother to be calling twice in as many days. Oh, God. Freddy.

She snatched up the phone with milliseconds left to spare before voicemail picked up. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly, a fragmented portion of her mind inexplicably latching onto the hope it wasn't Connor again. She didn't think she could deal with him right now.

"Lindsay?" a tinny voice said, wind and the noise of cars rushing past the mouth piece.

Lindsay relaxed as the distinct sounds of a New York street filled her ears. "Yes?"

"This is Julia. Danny's cousin?"

"Oh, yes. Hi," Lindsay said, eyes wide in astonishment. "How are you?"

"Well, I'd be better if someone would stop pickin' his nose," Julia said chidingly, and Lindsay's eyes swept to the side in confusion. "Sorry. My son's at that age. Leave your sister alone, Riley. It's bad enough she's wearin' your pants—"

Lindsay heard a child shriek in indignation in the background and another tell her mother she'd didn't want to wear pants ever again.

"—but havin' you tug her braid every few minutes…Yeah, ooooh, that. I guess you thought I couldn't see that, eh?" Julia muttered something in Italian then seemed to remember she was on the phone. "Oh, Lindsay, I'm so sorry."

Stifling laughter, Lindsay shook her head though Julia couldn't see. "Don't worry about it."

"And here I'm callin' to ask you a favor, too." Julia sighed self-deprecatingly.

"What's that?" Lindsay asked, her curiosity piqued.

"We're just down the street from your apartment, and the baby needs to be changed, and—"

"Come on over," Lindsay offered, cutting Julia off in the middle of her explanation.

"Thank you, thank you. I'll buzz you in a minute."

The phone clicked in her ear, and Lindsay smiled, shaking her head. Moving back to the bowl, she stared down in despair at the mess she'd made before picking up a spatula and attacking the batter. The bowl was full almost to overflowing with the chips in there, making chocolate morsels fall out every few seconds to bounce onto the counter. Taking deep breaths, she tamped down on the annoyance and tossed the chips back inside, only to have them fall out again.

When the doorbell rang, Lindsay needed a break from the frustration. Hurrying to the intercom, she buzzed Julia up without a word, knowing the mother might not have enough hands to hold down the button for a response. Swinging the door open, she leaned on the jamb to watch the elevator, ready to immediately grab the kids so Julia could hurry into the bathroom with the baby. It wasn't long before the elevator dinged to announce the car and the doors slid open.

"Oh, please," Julia said over her shoulder as she stepped out behind the pram. "You were just as bad as Riley, and you only got worse. At least I still have hope for him."

Katie and Riley trailed out after their mother, and Julia paused to stare seriously down at her son. "You are never getting a motorcycle young man."

Riley blinked up at her then shrugged good-naturedly, clearly unimpressed by his mother's ultimatum. Lindsay frowned and opened the door wider to see whom Julia had brought with her. When Danny stepped off the elevator behind them all, she blinked in surprise.

"Hey guys," she called down the hall.

"Lindsay!" Julia and her kids yelled, the kids running over to say hi as Julia tried to hurry after them. Lindsay hugged them both and ushered them into the apartment waiting for Julia and Danny to catch up.

"I was just a kid," Danny said to continue the argument, following the pram to the door. "You can't hold how I acted at ten against me."

"Ten?" Julia snorted. "I was talking about college."

Lindsay bit back a smile as they all filed past her, Danny pausing to press a kiss against her head. "Hey," he murmured into her hair.

"Hi," she whispered back then stepped in after them all and locked the door. Taking the baby carriage from Julia, she pushed it into the living room and glanced around to make sure there was nothing the kids could hurt themselves on.

"Twenty one and he thought he was such a bad boy," Julia scoffed, absently patting the baby's back as she wriggled. The gentle bouncing motion of her body was an odd contrast to the teasing disdain on her face as she taunted her cousin. "A motorcycle and a real id."

Leaning against Lindsay's counter, Danny crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't Joey stop with two kids? The world would be a far better place."

Julia sniffed and jerked her chin in the air. "If he'd never had me who the hell'd keep you in line?" Then Lindsay caught her eye as she headed back to the counter and Julia grinned, eyes sparkling with humor. "Maybe I'm redundant after all. Where were you twelve years ago? We could've used you."

Lindsay saw Danny stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but managed to stay nonchalant and stepped back up to the bowl. "I'm pretty sure if Danny had noticed me twelve years ago, I would have gotten him in even more trouble."

Julia studied her with renewed interest. "I never pegged you for a bad girl, Lindsay Monroe."

"Oh, I was as saintly as they came. Candy striper and all," she said with a friendly grin. "I was also underage."

Danny snorted out a laugh, and reached over to snag a chocolate chip from the batter stuck to her spatula. "I bet you were cute, though."

Flashing flirtatious eyes at him, she gently knocked his hand away, but he was too fast and grinned as he popped a second chocolate morsel in his mouth. Julia smirked and shifted the baby again. "Okay, time to change her. Bathroom?"

Lindsay gestured. "Down the hall. Door on the right."

"Thanks."

Catching Danny's eye, she looked back down, still trying to fold the chocolate chips into the batter. Lindsay waited until Julia had closed the door behind her to speak. "Why are you off so early?"

He shrugged. "Caught the guy."

"Did you take down a bad guy?" Riley asked, popping up next to Danny's elbow.

"Course I did."

Riley's eyes grew wide with excitement. "Was he huge like you?"

Lindsay stifled a laugh, and Danny glared at her before turning back to the five year old. "Sure was. Bigger even." Riley's eyes widened with disbelief. "They all are. Ain't that right, Montana?"

Coming up next to Lindsay, Katie put her small hands on the counter edge and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see. Lindsay absently reached into the bowl and pulled out a hunk to offer her. "Huge," she agreed mildly.

"Is Danny a superhero, Lindsay?" Riley asked, reappearing at Lindsay's other elbow.

She grinned at him and offered him a hunk, too. "Of course he is." She glanced up to wink at Danny and found him smiling, shaking his head. "What?"

"Nothin," he told her.

She gave him a strange look, but dismissed it. "And Super Danny didn't have to deal with the villainous Paperwork today?"

"I finished most of it the other night when I was waiting for you," he said, eyeing the kids.

Lindsay swallowed the thickness in her throat. She remembered that now. Clearing the stacks of paperwork off his desk had been his excuse for sticking around until she finished her later shift.

She'd thought Mac would see right through the ruse since Danny rarely dealt with paperwork before at least two threats to take him out of the field had been made. But Mac had merely been relieved, and Danny still didn't think it was a good idea to confront their boss with their relationship.

He kept telling her Mac would eventually suss it out, and then they'd deal with the consequences. She knew he was afraid Mac would try to completely separate them during work. She didn't want to think Mac would do that, but technically, despite being the same level investigator, Danny had seniority over her as he'd worked in the lab longer.

She understood the fear, shared it, but hated feeling like she was lying to Mac, especially since she and Danny weren't just fooling around. This wasn't just a fling. Their relationship was serious, and when Mac stopped being so distracted by bureaucracy he was going to realize just how long this clandestine affair had been going on under his nose.

And then the sky was going to tumble down on her and Danny's heads. Hard.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Katie's tiny hand resting on her arm. Smiling down at the little girl—sure to be a beauty with Julia's dark eyes and sausage curls—Lindsay offered her another small hunk of dough. The girl smiled beatifically and tried to shove the entire hunk in her mouth, managing to smear more across her face than in.

Automatically, Lindsay handed another chunk to Riley, keeping things fair and equal, and grabbed a napkin to wipe off his sister's face. It took a long while, but Katie calmly withstood the attention until all the dough was gone.

"So you're off for the night then?" she asked Danny, trying to change the subject as her eyes returned to the mess she still had to sort out in the bowl. Really, the only solution was to buy bigger mixing bowls.

He didn't answer. Looking up, she met Danny's gaze and her smile faded. "What?"

The soft warmth in his eyes made her blush. He opened his mouth to say something but the sound of Julia and the baby heading back into the room interrupted him. When Julia appeared in the hallway, she blinked at the sight of her children crowded around Lindsay and the bowl on the counter.

"Are they begging?" Julia asked, her eyes narrowing sternly.

"Nope. I was bribing them into liking me," Lindsay told her, grinning at the kids who looked extremely grateful for the protection from Julia's wrath.

"All right. Time to go. We have to finish shopping for Daddy's birthday, remember?" Julia expertly corralled her children, somehow managing to send them to the door ahead of her. "We'll let ourselves out. Thank you, _cara_. I'll see you on Sunday."

Lindsay was surrounded for a moment by the scent of freshly diapered baby as Julia pressed a kiss to her cheek and then the other woman was gone, pushing her kids out the door, pram in tow. "Bye, you bad boy," she called over her shoulder just before the door slammed shut behind them.

"Wow," Lindsay murmured, still staring after them. The apartment suddenly seemed huge and vacuous.

Turning back to Danny, she froze as she caught him staring at her again. "Uh—"

Leaning across the counter, Danny caught her lips with his, kissing her lightly. Then he pulled back and flicked her nose. "Chocolate chip, huh?"

"What's Sunday?" she asked, slightly dazed as she rubbed at her nose.

"Dinner at Mommy's," he said. "The dough's good anyway."

He reached for the bowl again as she blinked. "Oh."

She hadn't gone the week before, but, then, neither had Danny. The lab had been spread thin with Hawkes out sick, and they'd both worked straight through the weekend, coming home only to shower and grab a nap. Somehow in the flurry of activity, she'd forgotten a Sunday had passed.

The hesitation in her voice made him look up, fingers halfway to his mouth. "Did you not want to go? I can tell them you have to work again."

"No, I wanna go," she said quickly.

His shoulders relaxed a bit as his lips quirked into a teasing smile. "You're sure now?"

Blushing, she smacked his hand away from the bowl. "We won't have any cookies if you keep doing that."

Danny grinned at her, shifting his weight to lean both hands on the counter as he watched her. "They like you."

Her face warmed even more and she couldn't keep the goofy grin off her face. "Should we bring something?" Danny gaped at her. "What?

"No one ever brings anything."

Lindsay gaped back. "She does all that by herself every week?"

"Sure, she practically lives for it. She loves cookin."

Lindsay wrinkled her nose. "For thirty people? Every week?"

"Oh, usually only Julia and her husband Tony come with the kids," Danny told her, taking advantage of her lapse in guarding the bowl. "They live just down the street."

"But—" she started, staring into space as she remembered every inch of the house being full.

"Mom called around, told people you were comin," Danny explained.

She was still distracted, so he reached out to grab another spatula from the mason jar on her counter. Using it to scoop up more dough, he happily munched away, eyeing Lindsay's slack-jawed expression with amusement.

_**April 6**_

"Come in, come in," Natalia cried when she saw Lindsay standing on her welcome mat.

Lindsay stepped inside, clutching the Tupperware against her stomach. "Thank you."

"We just got back from mass," Natalia explained, reaching to help Lindsay with her coat. "Traffic was just awful."

Knowing the Messers' cathedral resided two blocks from their house, Lindsay let out a breathy laugh as Natalia turned to open a small closet next to them. Quickly hanging the coat and scarf inside, Natalia turned and gestured down the hallway before pausing, her eyes finally noting the Tupperware in Lindsay's death grip.

When Natalia's eyes lifted to hers, so disconcertingly like Danny's, Lindsay felt herself flush slightly. "I know Sunday dinner is your thing."

Popping the top, the scent of shortbread filled the small entryway as Lindsay held it out. "So, these are just for you. And Mr. Messer," Lindsay added as an afterthought. "You can share if you want."

Natalia blinked for a moment before reaching out and taking the Tupperware and lid. "You really didn't have to—"

"I know," Lindsay interrupted, holding her hand out reassuringly. "I just wanted to. It's my way of saying thank you for having me."

A smile split Natalia's face. "Then thank you very much. It smells delicious."

Relieved, Lindsay followed Natalia into the kitchen, wondering if Danny would leap out and save her from her own nervousness. Where was he?

"Danny's in the backyard with his father," Natalia said casually as she set the cookies on the counter. For one moment, Lindsay froze, sure the older woman was able to read her mind then shook herself as Natalia turned around holding the coffee carafe up invitingly.

"Yes, please," Lindsay said, gratefully.

"Have a seat, I'm just getting' the cannelloni together," Natalia said, gesturing at the plates and dishes spread across the table.

"It looks complicated," Lindsay said with a laugh, eyeing the pieces that would become cannelloni. One pan was filled with cooked shells, another bowl full of the cheese mixture.

"Not really," Natalia told her, handing her a steaming mug. "It just takes a light touch or everythin' falls apart."

Lindsay wondered amusedly if there was a metaphor in there somewhere. "Well, I'm notoriously awful in the kitchen. You can ask Danny."

"Really?" Natalia asked dryly, taking the seat across from Lindsay. "Because those cookies smell fantastic."

"Oh, yes. I can bake anything. Sweet things are easy for me. It just doesn't translate into savory as well." Natalia laughed and Lindsay grinned at her, sipping the coffee. Strong, just like Danny's.

"Do you need sugar?" Natalia asked, raising her own mug. "We Messers are a bitter lot."

Lindsay shook her head. "I'm used to it. Danny usually gets up first to make the coffee—" Realizing what she'd just admitted, Lindsay froze, her eyes dropping to the soft shells as her cheeks flamed.

There was a pregnant pause in the kitchen before Natalia snorted out a laugh. "When Danny was sixteen, Michael and I were woken up at three in the mornin' by his girlfriend's father bangin' on our door. Tina somethin, I think. Danny'd sprained an ankle climbin' outta her window. Well, fallin' more like." Lindsay ventured to raise her eyes and saw Natalia shaking her head. "I try to take these little revelations in stride."

Her wry tone set Lindsay off and they laughed for a minute, shocking Lindsay at how comfortable it was just sitting with Danny's mother. "Sorry," she said when she'd finally calmed down enough to speak.

Natalia waved her hand dismissively. "You wanna learn to make cannelloni?" she asked, picking up a towel and wiping her hands.

Lindsay quickly swallowed her mouthful of coffee and eyed the makings uneasily. "Sure."

"All right," Natalia said briskly. "We're goin' to fill those shells with this filling. I know it looks easy—" Lindsay gave her an incredulous look, and Natalia winked at her "—but these things fall apart at the slightest provocation."

Lindsay watched earnestly as Natalia demonstrated several shells, her fingers brisk but gentle. When it came Lindsay's turn, her shell fell apart practically before she'd touched it. Her eyes flew to Natalia's guiltily, but Natalia just gestured for her to hand the shell over.

"Try another one," she ordered, busily piecing the shell back together in the dish and carefully folding the torn end over the filling until it almost looked as if it had never been broken. Once baked with the others, no one would know.

More gently this time, Lindsay picked up a shell and transferred it to the plate in front of her. Encouraged when it didn't immediately fall apart, Lindsay scooped up the filling and tried to shake it off the spoon.

"Use your fingers, _cara_," Natalia told her.

Head jerking up, Lindsay caught the smile Natalia tossed her as the older woman filled a shell of her own without even looking down at her fingers. Lindsay bit her lip in concentration and sighed as a small piece tore off her shell.

"Keep the piece. We can put it back together. Cheese fillin' makes excellent glue." Lindsay chuckled and used her finger to swipe the cheese off the spoon and into the shell. "Everyone's fall apart the first few times," Natalia added, sliding Lindsay's into the pan beside hers.

Lindsay tilted her head to watch as Natalia patted the torn piece back in place and flipped the shell so it was invisible. Next to Natalia's perfect row, Lindsay's looked bulky and beaten up, but it held and Lindsay inwardly congratulated herself.

They did a few more in silence, Lindsay's almost always suffering at least one minor disaster. But Natalia just calmly slipped them into the baking pans and fixed the little tears without comment. So the sound of her voice a few minutes later nearly made Lindsay jump out of her skin.

"I wanna know more about you, Lindsay Monroe."

Lindsay marveled that there existed a question she hadn't been asked the last time she came to the Messer household, but she smiled benignly. "Ask away."

Natalia's eyes warmed again with humor. "First and foremost, is your family religious?"

Lindsay blinked at the unexpected question. Was Natalia already planning where to hold a wedding? "Very much so. Catholic, to be specific."

"Oh really? What church do you go to?" Natalia asked, obviously delighted her son was dating a Catholic. Lindsay hated to disillusion her, but she felt compelled to be brutally honest.

Meeting Natalia's eyes over the table, Lindsay floundered for words to explain. "I haven't been in a church since I was eighteen."

Natalia blinked then tilted her head to the side. Curiosity shone back at her from Natalia's eyes, but it was a gentle, unassuming curiosity and it didn't panic Lindsay at all. "What happened when you were eighteen?"

Lindsay swallowed, her stomach aching with a ghost pain the doctor had warned her about back when she'd first woken up those eleven years before. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her eyes to the fragile noodles. Her clumsy hands fiddled with one until it broke.

Wincing, she glanced sheepishly at Natalia from under her lashes. "Sorry."

"Not a problem, _cara_."

Lindsay wiped her hands on a towel. "My best friends were murdered. I was there, too, but I lived."

Natalia's hands paused then began moving again. "I'm very sorry."

"Thank you," Lindsay murmured, thoroughly uncomfortable.

Natalia didn't try to commiserate, just quietly waited for her to continue. A flood of gratitude and adoration swept through Lindsay.

"I just…I couldn't believe that a just, righteous God would make such wonderful girls who'd never done anything wrong suffer like that. And I couldn't believe that God wasn't just and righteous."

Natalia calmly raised her eyes to Lindsay's and gazed for a moment. Then, she gave a sad smile. "You still believe, _cara_. You're just very mad at God right now."

"Of course I'm mad," Lindsay spat out, her fist clenching on the table.

She heard a creak down the hall and noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes, but ignored it, trying to get her anger in check. Calmly, Natalia wiped her hands. When the older woman spoke, her voice was quiet and firm.

"I've been mad at God. When he took my Louie away. I didn't know why he would do such a thing. Louie made mistakes, yes, bad mistakes, but why would God give up on him?"

Shaking her head, Natalia sighed and carefully began placing the cannelloni in the baking dish. "I was very angry. But, I realized, God had left me one son. And I know Danny is a good boy. He won't end up like his brother or his father. He won't break my heart."

Lindsay tried not to let her reaction show on her face. Danny never mentioned his father really; nothing more than little clues that Michael Messer existed. She had, of course, met him at the other Sunday dinner, but he'd disappeared into the living room during the meal after kissing his wife on the head. Apparently, he'd broken Natalia's heart, though Lindsay couldn't imagine how considering the way she'd seen them act around each other.

"He won't break yours either."

The words startled Lindsay out of her thoughts. "What?"

Natalia gazed at her serenely, unfazed by the wide-eyed expression on Lindsay's face. "It must be difficult to let people in after what happened to you."

Lindsay controlled her wince. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable talking about her past. Then she mentally shook herself; she hoped she never became comfortable with it. "I never did until Danny," Lindsay admitted.

"He isn't easy to let in," Natalia said wryly, smiling affectionately.

"Yes, he is," Lindsay murmured, dropping her eyes when Natalia's jerked back to her.

There was a long pause as Lindsay watched Natalia's fingers move competently over the cannelloni. Natalia's voice was even more gentle when she spoke again.

"He's a good boy," she said, in an attempt at reassurance. "He won't hurt you."

Lindsay let out an almost amused breath. "Of course he will. People hurt each other, it's inevitable." Natalia let out a little gasp, and Lindsay raised her eyes to the other woman. "I just won't leave if he does."

A second noise at the door, louder this time, had both women glancing up. Lindsay bit back a groan as she spotted Danny in the doorway, one hand resting at the top of the jamb.

"You two need some help in here?" he asked, his eyes locked on Lindsay.

Natalia looked at Lindsay, her eyes searching the younger woman's mortified face, and nodded. "You can help Lindsay. She's getting better," she added with a bright smile as she stood to move towards the counter.

Danny dropped into the chair beside Lindsay's, reaching over to still her hands. "Here," he murmured, fixing her finger position slightly. "Like this."

She stared down at their entangled fingers. His were so large, wide and blunt, a workman's hands. In comparison, hers were tiny, appearing almost useless under his. But he moved them so gently with his own.

They looked up at the same moment, their eyes locking. If she'd had any hope he hadn't heard her with Natalia, it was dashed as he stared back. Just by looking at him she knew he'd heard enough to at least contextualize, and she felt her cheeks flush.

Then he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and she felt him breathe in as though trying to memorize the scent of her hair. Her heart began to pound as he stayed there, his forehead pressed against her temple, his fingers motionless over hers.

_**April 13**_

Lindsay dunked a piece of shortbread in her coffee and shrugged. "I'm not sure it really matters. It's too late to do much good in office."

"It's never too late to do good," Natalia argued then paused, staring at the cookie clutched between her fingers. "Maybe he's an exception, though. How does the casserole look?"

Lindsay chuckled and got up to peer through the glass door on the oven. "Is it supposed to bubble like that?"

"It's fine," Natalia assured her, reaching into the Tupperware again. "So you studied microbiology?"

"And criminology. Then I went to the Academy in Montana."

"And a pretty girl like you stayed single?" Natalia said, a small smile on her lips. "Danny got lucky."

Lindsay felt her cheeks flame and shook her head at Natalia's incorrigible teasing. "Not exactly. I was engaged, but it wasn't serious." Natalia's eyebrows shot up her forehead and Lindsay realized what she'd said. "It was complicated."

"I can imagine," Natalia got out, her brow furrowed.

"I'd known Connor all my life and he—but I—" She swallowed the words and desperately gulped at her coffee.

"You didn't love him?"

Lindsay shook her head wordlessly. Natalia nodded sagely. "We should put the topping on the casserole now," she said, standing. "How do you feel about kids, Lindsay?"

Lindsay blinked. "What?"

"You're good with them," Natalia continued blithely. "Sophie adores you."

Lindsay grinned. "I adore her, too."

Natalia grinned, opening the oven to shake handfuls of seasoned breading onto the bubbling casserole. "Sophie doesn't take to many people."

At that moment, Sophie toddled into the kitchen and made a beeline for Lindsay. "Linny? Up?" she asked tiredly, holding her arms out as much as she could without dropping the doll shoved under her elbow.

Scooping the toddler into her arms, Lindsay settled her against her hip. Natalia gave her a pointed look as if to say "See? I told you." Completely comfortable with Danny's mother, Lindsay just snuggled Sophie a little closer, tucking the girl's head against her shoulder.

"Natalia?" she said after a minute of listening to Sophie's breathing even out into sleep.

Danny's mother looked over her shoulder, in the middle of moving a saucepan to a cool burner. "Yeah?"

"Where's…" Lindsay paused and looked down at the toddler's head, uncomfortably aware of Sophie's trusting weight. How could she ask this question without sounding nosy or insensitive?

Natalia seemed to know what she was asking and looked at Sophie sadly. "Her mother died when she was born. Dylan works…a lot. He tries, but…He's in stocks or bonds or some such thing," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "She spends most of her time here."

Biting her lip, Lindsay rested her cheek on top of Sophie's head for a moment. Rather than dwell, Natalia calmly turned to the pot on the stove and scooped up a bit of risotto. Turning, she held the spoon out to Lindsay. "Here, try this."

Unable to think of anything better to do, Lindsay leaned forward to accept the offer.

Pushing himself off the couch, Danny turned the movement into a full body stretch, raising his arms over his head before he bent to snatch his beer bottle off the coffee table. He tuned out his father's argument with his cousin, opting to disappear stealthily down the hallway. His bottle was empty, which was unacceptable when a game went into overtime, and he was certain to find Lindsay in the kitchen.

Reaching the doorway, he glanced once behind himself to make sure his father hadn't followed, then started to step into the light spilling from the kitchen. His knees locked into place, freezing his body just before crossing the threshold as his mind raced at the sight across the room.

His mother held a spoon aloft, clearly waiting for Lindsay to taste something. As Lindsay leaned forward she cupped her free hand behind Sophie's head, ensuring the toddler wouldn't slip off her hip. Lindsay nodded and murmured something he couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears. Natalia's voice was louder, though, as she expounded upon the evils of over-seasoning.

Danny waited for the panic to claw at him, to shorten his breath, speed up his heart rate. His girlfriend of a paltry few months was standing ten feet away, cradling a toddler that was his spitting image while chatting idly with his mother. It was, for any bachelor, a nightmare situation.

Somehow, though, his feet were moving again, carrying him directly to Lindsay's side. When she lifted her chin to smile at him, he took advantage and lightly pressed his mouth to hers, careful not to bump his baby cousin.

When he pulled away, Lindsay gaped at him, her hand going to Sophie's back as the child raised her head. "Hey," Danny said, smiling at her. "Hey, Soph."

"Hi," the little girl said, smiling sleepily up at him. Satisfied that he wasn't very interesting, Sophie dropped her head back down to snuggle her face into the crook of Lindsay's neck.

Belatedly, Lindsay found her voice. "Who won?" she asked, obviously trying to gather her wits as her cheeks turned red.

"Overtime," he told them, glancing at his mother.

Her eyes were darting between he and Lindsay, a look of shock blossoming over her features. It was a singular feeling to catch his mother off guard, and he grinned cheekily at her. Her return smile was slow and just a little too sentimental for his tastes. Quickly, he moved to the fridge, afraid he'd already given too much away with that one gesture.

"How are things goin' in here? You burned anythin' down yet, Montana?" He grinned at her indignant glare and pulled out a few more bottles of beer.

"No, I have not," she said huffily.

Natalia shot him a pointed look. "Lindsay's very helpful, Daniel." Her arched eyebrow added a silent 'unlike you' that had him trying not to squirm.

Stepping up next to Lindsay, he surreptitiously put a hand on the small of her back and stroked softly to show he was sorry, only teasing. She sniffed a little, but her expression became a little less rigid and she glanced at him from under her lashes. He watched her hand come up to run gently over Sophie's hair. The baby let out a sigh and shifted to get closer.

"Where's Dylan?" Danny asked, running a finger down Sophie's cheek.

"Working," Natalia murmured, her voice a bit dreamy.

Turning his eyes to his mother, he saw her look away quickly, as though she'd been staring. Her cheeks tinged pink, and Danny wondered at the sight. He didn't remember ever seeing his mother much embarrassed, except perhaps the first time Louie was arrested. And that was in front of the priest who'd baptized both he and Louie. What mother wouldn't have been embarrassed? Now, though, Natalia seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down at Lindsay but she didn't seem to have noticed, concentrating as she was on getting something out of her pocket. Danny watched for a moment, confused, then realized he heard a slight buzzing.

"Here," he said, reaching for Sophie.

Lindsay flashed her sweet smile, and he felt the weird thump he always got when she did. He was used to it now, though, and managed not to dissolve into a goofy smiling idiot, instead reaching competently for the baby, who made the transition with nothing more than a frown.

Lindsay finally fished the phone out and checked the missed call. "Excuse me," she murmured, moving to stand slightly out of the room in the hallway.

"Try this," Natalia said, forcing Danny to shift focus to his mother and the spoon she held out.

Obligingly tasting the risotto, Danny thought for a moment. "Garlic."

Natalia looked exasperated. "You think everythin' needs garlic."

He scoffed. "Like you don't? We're Italian, Mommy. Garlic is life."

He grinned at her while she rolled her eyes, chuckling despite herself. Then Lindsay walked back in, a rueful smile on her face. "I'm sorry, guys, I have to go."

"Mac?" he asked, shifting Sophie higher on his side as Natalia turned from the stove.

"Yeah. DB in the park." Lindsay smiled at Natalia. "I'm sorry—"

Natalia waved her hand, though she looked a bit crestfallen. "Oh, I'm used to this after ten years of Danny dashin' off at a moment's notice. Take some risotto with you for the trip."

Natalia turned to grab a tupperware and started spooning out the risotto. "Wait two minutes and this casserole will be done, too. It'll be runny, but hot."

Danny grinned at Lindsay, rolling his eyes behind his mother's back. Always convinced people would starve without her food. Lindsay smacked him on the shoulder, lightly so Natalia wouldn't hear.

"How will you get back?" Lindsay asked, looking at Danny with concern.

He shrugged then moved a hand down Sophie's back soothingly as she stirred at the movement. "Don't worry about me. I have an old bike here if I really need to get back to the city tonight."

"You're sure?" Lindsay asked as Natalia took the casserole out of the oven. "I can come back to get you in the morning."

"I'll take the ferry," he told her, smiling at her worry. "It's not a big deal."

"Okay." Her eyes moved to the half of Sophie's face she could see against Danny's chest. Smiling softly, she raised her eyes to Danny's. "I think it's time for a nap."

"Maybe I'll take one, too," Danny said with a quiet chuckle.

"Okay, here we go," Natalia said, handing two Tupperwares to Lindsay. "Let's getcha on your way."

Danny kissed her goodbye at the door, handing Sophie to his mother so he hand both arms free. Then he blinked as Natalia handed the baby back and pulled Lindsay into a hug.

"You come back soon. And drive safely," she added as Lindsay backed away. "Maniacs are out on Sunday. It's like Amateur Day on the road."

Promising to be careful, Lindsay hurried out into the rain. Danny and Natalia watched as she got in the lab vehicle and pulled away. Strangely, Danny found them both watching the car until it turned out of sight at the corner, the cold air seeping into their bones.

"She's a good one, Daniel," Natalia said, sighing as she finally closed the door. "You keep this one."

Danny blinked as Natalia twirled on her heel and began the trek back to the kitchen. "You never even met the others," he called after her.

She scoffed and glanced at him over her shoulder. "And what does that tell you, young man?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Anonymous Reviews:

seaandsun: I don't really do unhappy endings. I'm the Queen of Angst, but secretly, I'm just a fluff bunny in disguise. : )

Iz: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! And, seriously, season 2 is one of my favorite seasons of a television show ever. Season 3 is good, too, but the first season with Lindsay is my favorite. Love it.


	7. April 2008, Part II

A.N. Thanks again to scoob2222 for the righteous beta-ing.

_**April 20**_

"I'd always hoped Danny and Aiden might make a match of it," Natalia said after a few moments of silence.

Lindsay's stomach dropped then twisted. She tried to keep the misery off her face as Natalia straightened and turned to her, letting the oven bang shut. Natalia's eyes had a far off look in them, as though they were examining the past.

Lindsay was ashamed to admit that she had been jealous of Aiden Burn, long ago before the other woman's murder. Danny had always been so obviously fond of Aiden that Lindsay couldn't help but feel a bit unexceptional in comparison. The way his eyes always lit up when he spoke of her made Lindsay's heart thud painfully.

She'd tried to write it off as fear that Danny would never accept her as a partner, or trust her as much as he had Aiden. Professionally, of course.

But after Aiden's death, she'd been forced to admit the truth to herself. She was jealous. She was jealous that another woman had such a profound hold on Danny Messer, player extraordinaire. Particularly considering she wanted to have a similar hold and never believed he would see her as anything but the bumpkin from Montana.

Looking back, she wondered how she'd missed the clues that he was interested. Sure, she'd noticed the heavy flirting, the looks, the excessive innuendos. She'd merely assumed he was like that with all women. Except Stella. But, then, Stella was his boss, and Lindsay dismissed this with easy logic. He couldn't flirt with Stella.

Part of her had always believed Danny had been in love with Aiden, and she could never bring herself to ask him about it, even now when they were so entwined with each other. Mostly because it was just so wrong to worry about his past relationship with a woman now dead, and, really, she hated that she was. It made her feel dirty. On the other hand, she recognized that she was just plain afraid of what he would say.

She'd grown accustomed to carrying that heavy feeling around, much as she did the knowledge that Danny had slept with a plethora of women before her. Hearing Natalia say it out loud, Lindsay wasn't sure she was as accepting as she tried to pretend.

"But I wasn't surprised when they didn't. Danny wasn't ready to take a woman seriously, and Aiden became his…sister, I guess." Her gaze suddenly refocused on Lindsay, her expression speculative. "Or maybe he was just waiting for you."

Lindsay's eyes went wide, the misery draining away until she was empty of anything but astonishment. Her lips fluttered, her mind trying to form any sort of coherent response, preferably one that would encourage Natalia to continue. Luckily, it wasn't needed.

"I'd never heard Danny talk about a woman the way he talked about you. At first it was so grudging, even when Aiden asked." Natalia smiled wryly. "And she asked a lot. I think just to rile him up."

Lindsay waited, eyes glued to Natalia's face as her heart thumped rather painfully.

"Then it was more…admiring. 'You shoulda seen Montana collar that guy. She just reached out and plucked him outta the air.' Things like that."

Taking the towel from off her shoulder, Natalia wiped her hands and set it aside. "And then it was…like he couldn't believe you were real. And he wouldn't bring you up anymore. He'd blush, shake his head a bit. I've never seen my son shy except when he talks about you. Aiden was really the only one who dared tease him about it. He'd get so mad."

Natalia chuckled, and Lindsay wished she had the breath to laugh, but she felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach.

Michael came through the doorway and eyed the women. Perched on top of his shoulders, Sophie waved ecstatically. "Linny!"

Forcing her backbone to straighten under Michael's scrutiny, Lindsay smiled back at the little girl. "Hey, cutie. How's it going up there?"

Sophie giggled, inadvertently hitting Danny's father in the head as she gesticulated wildly. But Michael didn't say anything, merely held her during her excited wiggling so she wouldn't fall off his shoulders. And once again Lindsay wondered why Danny didn't want her near his father. Aside from his obvious dislike of her.

_**April 23**_

Lindsay opened the cookie jar and took out a chocolate chip as the phone rang in her ear. Her mother had demanded Lindsay call her today, stating that it wasn't right she spend more time talking to Danny's mother than her own. So the fact that her mother didn't seem to be waiting anywhere near the phone was a little annoying.

Finally, a deep voice that most definitely did not belong to her mother said, "Hello?"

Swallowing quickly, Lindsay cursed her bad luck. "Hey, Connor."

It was quiet on the other end for a moment then his deep, smooth voice came back. "Hi, Mouse. How are things?"

"Things are…keeping me busy. Work's been hectic." Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out the milk and poured herself a generous glass to go with her cookies.

Connor's voice warmed as he spoke again. "I thought in your line of work you always had new cases. You know, like an undertaker."

Lindsay snorted, nearly spewing milk every where. Coughing a bit, she smiled as she heard Connor chuckle over the line. "Cute, very cute. What are you doing over there anyway? It's nine in the morning for you."

"I'm helping Brad with some of the horses. Gordon just bought a new mustang, and he's been riling up the others."

"Time for a proverbial smackdown?" Lindsay asked, easing herself into a corner of the couch.

She'd been avoiding Connor's calls for so long she'd forgotten what it felt like to talk to him. Easy, like breathing.

Somehow, though, she still felt guilty. She'd never told Danny about Connor's message after she got out of the hospital. Never told him Connor still called from time to time. The only one who knew was Jen, and she certainly wasn't talking. Jen guarded Lindsay's secrets like a minotaur. Except fiercer.

Lindsay knew she should've told Danny. She just didn't see the point, really. It would upset him for no reason. Regardless of Connor's feelings, he was respecting the relationship she had with Danny, and she had no intention of giving him any signal to deepen their friendship.

"Earth to Lindsay, come in Lindsay."

Jerking out of her reverie, Lindsay managed a small laugh. "Sorry. Woolgathering."

"You all right? You sound…strange."

"No, no, I'm fine." She smiled slightly at his intuition. "I've been…having an interesting month," she told him with a self-deprecating laugh.

"How's that?"

She heard the sound of his boots echoing across the kitchen floor and winced. "Am I keeping you from work?"

"Nah, we just finished. I was about to head home, but Molly offered me a snack. She's making it now. So I got time. Tell me about this month you're having."

"Well," she said, trying to figure out where to begin. "I finally met Danny's family. Or, I should say, his mother stalked me until she met me."

"What?" Connor asked, laughing.

Slipping into the ease they'd had all her life, Lindsay told him the story. Told him about Natalia and how great she was. Told him about Michael and his odd dislike of her. She talked about Sophie for so long Connor had to interrupt.

"Lindsay, tell me truly now," he said seriously. "Are you adopting this girl?"

"Oh shut up. She's cute."

She told him everything she knew, from Julia's family to the other names she managed to file away. She'd been rambling for at least twenty minutes before she remembered why she shouldn't be talking about this with Connor. She must be breaking his heart with every word.

She stopped so abruptly Connor said, "Hello? Lindsay?" into the phone.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to babble."

"Since when does that stop you?" he asked, his voice rich with amusement.

Rolling her eyes, Lindsay changed the subject. "All right, funny man, time for your news, then."

"Not much to tell, really. The ground's pretty much thawed by now, so I'm heading back out to New York in a month or so."

"You're waiting that long to start training?" Lindsay asked, surprise reflected in her tone.

"Not exactly. I've got a pretty good team built up by now, so they do most of the training now. I'm really only heading out for the summer."

Lindsay floundered for a moment. "Seriously? The ranch is doing that well?"

"It's a horse ranch, Mouse. Of course it's doing well."

"That's a total fallacy and you know it. Tons of ranches close every year," she grumbled, pushing herself further into the corner of the couch.

Connor laughed into the phone. "Well my ranch is doing fine. Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome," she said primly, smiling as his rich laugh traveled over the line and wrapped around her. Even as kids that laugh had been comforting. He just put his entire being into it.

_**April 28**_

Stepping into the ME's office, Danny spotted Lindsay and Stella listening to Sid ramble about credit fraud. Danny forgot where he was and tilted his head to the side, eyeing the way Lindsay's pants stretched as she bent to look at something on the vic.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he remembered watching watched her get dressed that morning. He'd never once expected watching a woman put on socks to be erotic, but somehow Lindsay pulled it off.

Hearing a throat clear, Danny nearly jumped out of his skin, jerking his gaze away from his girlfriend's ass towards the sound. Stella raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to Sid, who merely looked confused at the interruption. Lindsay, lost in the wound and its ramifications, didn't even notice.

"I'm gonna start running those prints," Stella told Lindsay. "Could you take the trace back to the lab?"

"Sure," Lindsay murmured, straightening and flashing Stella a smile.

Stella turned and began to stride towards the door, unfortunately located directly to the left of Danny's current position. Out of pride, he refused to look away, forcing himself to make eye contact and nod. He knew his cheeks were heating as Stella passed him, but she just shook her head in amusement.

He blinked in surprise at the lack of reprimand. Whatever happened to the intra-office fraternization rule? Abruptly, he remembered that Stella didn't know about he and Lindsay. She knew they'd grown closer than ever throughout both the trial and Lindsay's recovery. Danny hadn't exactly hidden his trip to Montana or his almost daily visits to the hospital. He was sure she'd thought many times they'd taken the plunge.

But the reality was that he and Lindsay had created so many false alarms people would be hard pressed to believe they were dating if he told them. Even Flack and Hawkes had ribbed him for weeks about whether or not he and Lindsay were "really" together now.

No. They'd been faking it in the hallway.

Jackasses.

Running a hand over the back of his neck, Danny dutifully turned his eyes away from her pants and towards the sheet-covered vic he knew was his. The face was in tatters but from the rest of the body, Danny knew the guy had been young. Maybe reckless. Danny wasn't even sure what would cause this kind of damage to a human. Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"This your vic?" Lindsay asked from just below his left ear.

Danny glanced to the side and smiled at her, nodding at the container in her hands. "Stomach contents?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a lucky girl." Lindsay looked curiously at the body on the table. "What's his story?"

"Kid found in the park. No id. We were hoping to match dental." He ran his eyes over what was left of the kid's face.

"And I have your x-rays," Sid told him, offering the large manila envelope. "I can't tell you much. I don't know what sort of weapon would make these marks."

Danny's eyes followed as Sid pointed to the face. "Some kind of animal claw?"

"Animals don't generally leave the rest of the body intact if that's what they do to the face," Lindsay murmured, glancing between the two men.

Sid nodded. "No remnants of the weapon in the wound tracts, either. Though whatever it was did nick the cheekbone."

"Jesus," Danny muttered. "Any way to put Humpty Dumpty back together?"

"Marty's gonna take a crack at it," Sid told him. "I would, but I still have Mac's body to examine." Sid looked down at the body again. "And this is gonna take a while."

Danny nodded, resigned to the wait. "Thanks, Sid. Thank Marty for me, will ya?"

"Sure. As for the rest of the body," Sid said, pulling the sheet back. "We have massive internal trauma. The spleen's ruptured, the liver's bruised." Sid shook his head. "The kid was beaten to death."

Busy staring at the various cuts and scrapes marring the body, Danny jerked a little at the news. "Fists did that?"

"No," Sid said speculatively. "I'd say he was dragged at a high velocity. See these scrapes here? They're shallow, but look at the beginning of the rash around them. I say that's from asphalt."

"You get any trace?" Danny asked as Sid pulled the sheet away from the legs.

"All ready sent it up to the lab," Sid said. "Now here—"

"Danny," Lindsay whispered.

The whisper was so quiet he automatically leaned closer to her in reaction. "What's up, Montana?"

Danny watched the blood drain from her face as she pointed at the kid's calf. "Look."

Following her finger, he could barely make out the edges of a tattoo and tilted his head to the side, wondering why Lindsay sounded so freaked. "Sid, help me turn him."

Sid jerked his eyes from Lindsay's face to nod. Together, the men turned the body so he was resting on his side. Danny ran his eyes over the strange symbol, wondering why it seemed so familiar. Lindsay stared at it as though she'd seen a ghost.

Fear made his voice sharper than he intended. "What's goin' on, Montana?"

"Mancini had the same tattoo."

Eyes widening, Danny glanced at Sid, who shook his head in confusion. Danny looked back at Lindsay, the beginnings of serious anxiety churning in his gut. "You sure?"

"Positive. How many times have I looked at that file, Danny?"

Several dozen.

He stared at the offending pattern, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Two of the same meaningless pattern didn't make sense unless it wasn't meaningless. And the detail of the tattoo hadn't been released to the press, so this wasn't a sick case of Copying the Dead Guy. Which meant his vics, found dead months apart, had known each other well enough to get matching tattoos.

They certainly weren't lovers since Danny had run across several of Mancini's flames. Probably childhood friends. Which meant he was encountering specialized tattoos on young men from Staten Island.

Fuck.

"Grab the camera," he told her, his voice grim. This was not going to end well. "I'm gonna call Mac."

_**April 29**_

"Those dental records came back," Hawkes said, handing a sheet of paper to Danny.

Hawkes's poker face was atrocious, and Danny felt his stomach clench as he flipped the page around so he could read it. His finger tapped absently on the picture of Mancini's tattoo, which he'd stared at more often in the last two days than Lindsay had in two months. He kept hoping it would magically translate, revealing that the truth wasn't as bad as he was imagining.

"Kyle Fancesco," he murmured out loud.

"I found a link," Hawkes said in that quiet voice.

Danny's head jerked up. "Already," he said with surprise. Hawkes nodded solemnly, making the nerves in Danny's stomach stand at attention. "Lay it on me, man."

Hawkes cleared his throat and pointed at the bottom of the page. "They went to the same high school."

Blinking, Danny followed Hawkes's finger. "You're kidding me, it was that simple—?" Finding the school name, his words trailed off. "Tottenville High?"

His eyes flew up to meet Hawkes's, and he could feel his face harden into a neutral mask. "That's my high school."

Hawkes sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Danny couldn't have gotten them to Staten Island faster if the lab vehicle had been their only escape from a fire, but somehow Flack beat them to the school. He was next to Danny's door before either he or Hawkes could step from the car.

"I spoke to the principal," Flack said, cutting Danny's greeting short.

Danny felt annoyance spurt inside him. "Really? You leave anythin' for us to do?"

"I'm sorry," Flack said dryly. "Is me doin' my job gettin' in your way, Messer?"

Jerking open the trunk, Danny stared archly at his best friend as Hawkes silently handed him a case. "What'd he tell you, Flack?" Danny asked impatiently.

Hawkes closed the door to the truck, locking it and slipping the keys in his pocket despite the fact that Danny had driven. Flack sent Danny an exasperated look. "Does Mac even know you're here, Danny?"

Anger began to pump through Danny's veins. His voice was tense when he began, his words rising in volume as he went on. "I told him everything we found out. He said we should talk to the principal—"

"No," Flack snapped, cutting him off again. "Mac said Hawkes and I should talk to the principal. He's _your_ fucking principal, Messer. You're too close to this investigation—"

"Like _hell_ I'm too close. I never even seen this kid, Flack," Danny yelled right back, his accent growing thicker with each syllable. "He's, what, twenty-one? How the hell would I know him from a rock?"

"Then why the _fuck_ are you so tense?" Flack screamed and Danny stopped.

Pacing away a few steps, Danny took the opportunity to look around his old high school. Nothing much had changed. That stupid pirate flag was still being flown at the front of the school. Cars littered the parking lot, most too beaten up to be anything but junkers. The few that were more, though, were Mercedes or Priuses, reminding Danny just what growing up on Staten Island had been.

The car he drove in high school was in the parking lot no less, there in the corner by the BMW. Staring at it, the knot in his stomach wound tighter. He was tense because he knew what he was going to find on the other side of this investigation, and it was like the past was playing on a looping tape in front of his eyes.

Turning back, he found Flack facing away with his hands stuck in his pockets. Hawkes watched them both warily, leaning back against the truck. Danny took a deep breath and tried again.

"What'd the principal say, Don?" he asked, his voice carefully even.

Flack sighed. "Danny, go back to the lab."

Unreasonable fear clogged his throat even as his back stiffened and his tone hardened. "What'd Moretti say?"

Flack ran a hand over his face. "Julian Sassone, Dan. The kids used to hang out with Julian Sassone."

Fuck.

Danny turned to Hawkes with a shell-shocked expression. "Can you ride back with Flack?"

"Do we even need to stay?" Hawkes asked. The doctor kept his voice neutral as he turned assessing eyes on Danny's face, and Danny knew Hawkes was trying to discern his mental state.

Trying to ignore that, Danny nodded. "Find out if anyone remembers these guys. Did they have a name?"

"A name?" Hawkes repeated, his brow furrowing.

"You think they're Tanglewood two pint oh?" Flack asked grimly.

Danny shook his head. "No idea. But I gotta talk to Mac." Suddenly all business, Danny turned directly to Hawkes. "You stay, ask anything you can think of. We need all the background we can get. I'll go back, work the system, see if Mini Sassone got himself a record along the way."

The drive back to the lab was a blur. Once he was there, though, he became single-minded, commandeering a computer and running a more thorough background check than the FBI. But he couldn't find anything.

Julian Sassone virtually didn't exist in any database except as a blip on the Sassone family record. And considering how heavy police surveillance had been on the family for the past forty years or so, Julian's blip was more of a microscopic speck. Thanks to the kid's unfortunate relations, Danny knew quite a bit about Julian's school career, every A or B closely scrutinized by the cops—did he threaten the teacher? did he threaten another student?—and the schedule for his after school activities—lacrosse and debate team—were kept in a meticulously annotated file.

To all evidence, the keen watch seemed to be wasted on the youngest Sassone—obviously a happy accident given the severe age gap between he and his brother—considering he appeared to never have placed even a toe out of line. He'd made honor roll and dean's list every semester in high school. He enrolled in Columbia University directly out of high school to study business and mythology on full scholarship.

Danny had hit a brick wall, and Mac was finally back in the lab after dealing with his own case. It was time to face the music.

Snatching up the file of information he'd managed to collect about the case, the victims, and Julian Sassone, Danny pushed his chair back from the computer desk and stood. Holding his head as high as he possibly could, Danny crossed the floor, taking himself directly to Mac's door. It was open, and he stuck his head inside, rapping lightly on the glass.

"Mac, you got a minute?"

Mac looked up and tossed "C'mon in, Danny."

Taking a deep breath, Danny pulled the door to Mac's office closed behind himself and met his boss's eyes. Mac stared him down, his hands on his hips, giving Danny the look that said "What'd you do this time?"

Danny wondered briefly if Flack had tattled about his trip to Staten Island then dismissed the idea. Flack wouldn't do that.

"You're not gonna believe this, Mac," Danny said, handing Mac the folder, a little marred from his tight grip. Mac eyed the bent manila, raising an eyebrow, but Danny just shrugged and dropped onto the couch. "It's worse inside."

Flipping it open, Mac read through the nightmare. Danny watched his eyes as they moved across the page, stopped abruptly and went back. When Mac raised his head, Danny was ready.

"Tanglewood?"

"I don't think so," Danny said, resting his elbows on his knees and clenching his hands together to hang between his legs. "Julian's got no record, and he's too young to have been runnin' with the Tanglewood boys."

"Have Hawkes and Flack bring him in, shake him down," Mac said, closing the file and handing it back.

_**April 30**_

Danny looked through the window at the young man seated at the metal table. "That's him?" he asked with a bit of disbelief.

"That's him," Flack confirmed. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side. "Good cop, bad cop?"

Danny studied the kid through the glass. "No."

Julian Sassone had none of the rough Staten Island edges with which Danny was familiar. He wore slacks and a button down oxford, having come straight from "casual Friday" at his internship at a brokerage firm near Wall Street. His haircut was impeccable, and from where he stood Danny could see no wrinkles in either the slacks or the oxford. The kid practically oozed Manhattan polish.

His leg was jiggling up and down and Danny wondered if Julian could feel their eyes on him even through the glass. Judging from his family's collected police records—which practically formed a Sassone Family wing in the archives—Julian should know what came next. But he still looked nervous and confused, nothing like his brother had looked.

"Straight up," Danny said. "You and Hawkes go in."

Flack glanced at him sharply. "Right. Okay," he said, his voice careful, almost relieved.

Turning, Flack strode from the room, Hawkes his silent shadow. Danny tried to relax his muscles, but his fists kept clenching at his sides as he waited for the show to begin. A few moments later, Flack slammed the door to interrogation closed. Danny watched Julian jump in surprise and perhaps some fear at the sight of Flack's warface.

"Oh boy are you in trouble," Flack said, calm and matter-of-fact.

Julian's eyes never left Flack's face, his expression wary. "I don't understand."

"Your friends? Yeah, they're dead," Flack told him, purposely remaining standing. "And you're the only link between 'em."

Julian just stared at him, eyes watchful.

"You do know Mancini and Fancesco are dead," Flack prodded, leaning his fists on the table. Hawkes pulled out one of the chairs and slipped into it, still quiet.

"Yeah," Julian said. "I heard."

"You heard. You heard," Flack repeated more softly as if to himself. "What does that mean, you heard?"

Julian shifted in his seat, subtly, but a dead give away to his nerves. "It means I heard. We don't hang much anymore."

"Oh really. And why is that?"

"We just didn't see each other much anymore. I live in Manhattan. Kyle and James both still lived across the river. I'm busy. They aren't." He paused, frozen for a moment. "Weren't."

"So you're telling me you never saw these guys?" Flack said, disbelief oozing from his words as he straightened to his full height.

"No, I saw 'em," Julian said. "Just not often anymore. We'd get together every coupla months, get a beer, play some pool. That's about it."

"You know, a little birdie told me you saw Fancesco a couple of months ago."

Julian's eyes turned cold, and Danny could see he was getting fed up. Flack was doing his job. "Musta been when I went to James's funeral. A lotta people from the old neighborhood were there, since, you know, they never left."

"So, you saw Fancesco just before his death."

"Oh come on," Julian snapped, collapsing heavily backwards in his chair. "That was months ago. I don't even know how he died. Or when. This is ridiculous. Did you know his family can't have a funeral until you release the body? Ever think about that?"

Flack eyed the younger man. "Too bad since we're tryin' to find his killer. The funeral's gonna have to wait."

Julian gave him a sarcastic look. "We're Catholic. Funeral's don't wait."

Flack leaned forward again. "You tryin' to tell me his family don't want his killer behind bars, Julian?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. "Cuz I don't buy it."

The kid had the grace to look ashamed. "Not what I'm sayin." Danny saw him take a deep breath. "I just want his body laid to rest."

"Which is what we're tryin' to do, so why don't you help us, Julian?" Flack asked in his normal voice, pushing up and shifting back to the balls of his feet.

Julian rubbed his forehead, his whole body weary. "I don't know anything. I didn't really talk to Kyle at all after the funeral. We were supposed to get together for a drink sometime next week."

"You didn't talk to him, but you made plans?" Flack said, gesturing for Julian to elaborate.

"He sent me an email," Julian told him, in a "duh" voice.

"When was this?" Hawkes asked quietly.

Julian jerked in surprise, his eyes swinging to heretofore silent Hawkes's face. "Uh, I don't know. A few days ago. Friday, maybe."

"Why so far in advance?" Flack asked, his voice borderline mocking. "What, he spend the weekends in the Hamptons?"

Julian shook his head slightly, annoyed by the taunting. "No. I did. My boss took me and a couple of the other interns up to his house."

"Why?"

"It was sort of a belated thank you, I guess, for working over the holidays."

Flack smirked. "So you worked on New Year's Eve? That's funny, so did I."

Julian swallowed thickly. "No. I had New Year's Eve off. But I had to be into the office at five the next day, so I told James I couldn't go to the party with him."

Danny's muscles tensed, and he moved unconsciously forward, even as he watched Flack do the same through the glass. "You tellin' me you were supposed to be with James the night he was killed?"

"That's what I'm tellin' you," Julian said, but his voice was subdued, the lack of sarcasm merely making him sound young.

"So, you spoke to James the day he died and you spoke to Kyle a few days ago," Hawkes said, flipping open the file on the table.

Julian's eyes fell to it automatically then went back to Hawkes's face. "Yeah. I guess."

"You guess or you did?" Flack barked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I spoke to 'em."

"Okay, Julian. Then you should know who they were hangin' with when they died." Flack smiled humorlessly and pulled out the chair next to Hawkes. "Spill."

Julian ran a hand through his stylish hair. "I don't know. I mean, there were some guys from the old neighborhood that were supposed to be goin' to some New Year's party. James had been seein' this girl…" He paused. "I don't remember her name. Maria or somethin. But he and this girl Celia've been off and on since high school. I think it got messy."

"Messy?" Flack questioned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Care to elaborate?"

"I told you," Julian said, exasperated. "I don't know. James and Celia had a…thing for forever. He prolly cheated on the other girl, but he never told me. Just said it ended badly."

"And where was Kyle when you and James were having this bonding moment?"

Julian blew out a breath. "Kyle was MIA for a few weeks around New Year's. Don't know what he was doin' or who he was seein. Neither did James."

"Mancini told you that, eh?" Flack asked, casually shifting his position.

"Yeah. He did."

"So, basically, you were the only one who knew where James was that night."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "I just told you. He was crashing some party with a few guys from the neighborhood. Wanted me to come. I told him I couldn't go. That was the last I heard from him."

"You remember any of these guys' names?" Flack pressed.

Julian calmly met his eyes. "They're escapin' me."

"That right?" Flack asked, and Danny could hear the smirk in his voice.

"That's right." Julian's chin rose an inch. "If you'd been askin' around, you woulda found 'em by now."

"Ya see, Julian, that's kinda why I don't believe you," Flack said sweetly. "Because we have been askin' around, and no one seems to have seen James that night."

Julian's brow furrowed. "No one?" His eyes slid to the left and narrowed, his face turning grim. "Is that right?"

Danny wrapped his fingers around the sill of the two-way mirror, leaning forward even further. The kid didn't look too happy about that information, and Danny found himself wondering if maybe the kid was a true Sassone after all.

If it was information Julian wanted, his family had enough contacts who'd be willing to beat it out of a few guys from the old neighborhood. And if Julian called in any favors, the police would know. Whether or not they could do anything, though, was another story.

Flack shook his head. "Not one person remembers seein' your boy that night. And, yet, somehow he ends up dead in Manhattan. Your new neighborhood. How does that happen, Julian?"

Snorting, Julian lost the determined look. "Yeah, mine and about six million other people."

Having heard enough, Danny stepped back to lean against the opposite wall. His mind raced as he tuned out the rest of the interrogation. When the knock came on the observation room door, Danny nearly jumped out of his skin before going to meet Flack and Hawkes in the hallway.

Flack shoved a hand in his pocket. "Whatcha wanna do now?"

"Check his alibis," Danny said absently, his eyes roaming over the blank walls of the hallway. "Hawkes, where are you on the evidence?"

"There isn't much to go over, Danny. The trace in his road rash was asphalt. The kind that makes up every city road."

"So he was dragged down a street in the city, and no one noticed?" Flack said incredulously. "I know New Yorkers are apathetic but Jesus."

"No, they saw," Danny murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he thought. "They just aren't talkin." Flack and Hawkes glanced at each other as Danny shifted on his feet. "What else?"

"The damage on his face was most likely done by a weed wacker."

Flack's jaw dropped. "You're shittin' me."

"No, unfortunately," Hawkes told him. He sounded almost apologetic for his findings. "It explains the inconsistency of the gashes and the clean nicks to the cheekbones."

"Jesus. This job gets weirder and weirder," Flack muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Look. I can only hold the kid for so long. I'm gonna get to work on the alibis for both nights. Page me if you find anythin' else."

"Yeah," Danny said, his voice still slightly out of focus. Then, suddenly, he snapped back to the present. "Hawkes, you head back to the lab, see if there's anything we could've missed. Check his clothes, his shoes, inside and out. Go back to the body. Check his hair, everything. See how Marty's doin' with that reconstruction. I'm gonna talk to Mac."

He could feel their eyes on his back as he strode down the hall. He knew they were worried he was losing himself in the case. Hell, _he _was worried he was losing himself in the case. But ten minutes later, he was sitting across Mac's desk as his boss filled out a stack of forms, and he didn't have time to worry about that anymore.

"His accent's almost gone," Danny said thoughtfully, drawing Mac's attention from his paperwork.

Danny could feel Mac studying his face, obviously reading more into the statement than anyone else would, but couldn't look up to meet them. Shifting uncertainly, Danny concentrated on sifting all the information into groups of what he did know and what he didn't.

"Something's off, Mac."

Mac set the pen down, letting the silence drag before answering. "You don't think he did it?"

Danny frowned. "No, he did it. That's what's weird."

"Why?"

Frustration made his words sharp. "Because I got nothing that says he did it. No evidence whatsoever."

"There's always evidence," Mac reminded him.

"Yeah, but this evidence don't tie Sassone back to Mancini or Fancesco."

"Then what makes you think he did it?" Mac asked, his eyes narrowing in speculation.

Danny swallowed, knowing this wouldn't go down well. "Instinct."

Mac's face turned weary. "Danny—"

"Mac, I can tell you beyond the shadow of a doubt, Julian Sassone killed these guys," Danny told him, leaning forward to stare intensely at his boss.

Mac's brows came together, his eyes searching Danny's before looking away. "By his own admission, he knows the two men," Mac said, shifting in his chair. "That's something."

Danny ran a hand over his hair, as always, surprised at how long it had grown. His mother was right, it was downright shaggy. "Yeah, but he claims he hadn't really seen either of them in months except at Mancini's funeral. And I got nothin' that contradicts that."

Mac slowly closed the file of paperwork, his face pensive. "Danny, are you sure you're not letting that fact that he's a Sassone cloud your judgment?"

His muscles tensed and he had to force his teeth to unclench. "I'm sure. This kid…he's too perfect, Mac."

"He's too perfect," Mac repeated, clearly unsure how to take that.

Danny struggled to organize his instincts into coherent thoughts. "It's like he deliberately cut off all connection with his roots," Danny muttered, gazing into an empty middle distance. "He lost his accent. He went to work at a brokerage firm. The only thing he didn't do was dump his old friends."

"I thought you said he hadn't seen them in months."

"He hadn't," Danny confirmed. "But both Mancini and Fancesco's families told us—"

"Us?" Mac questioned dryly.

He didn't really seem surprised at Danny's involvement, though, so Danny ignored the interruption. "—that the boys get together every couple of months. Usually on Staten Island." Danny shook his head. "Why would this kid, who volunteers to work holidays, never sees his family, keep these guys at his beck and call?"

"At his beck and call?" Mac repeated. "Danny, I think you're jumping to—"

"Not my words, Mac."

Mac stopped, a mask of neutrality slamming down over his features. "Whose?"

Meeting his eyes, Danny tried to keep his worry off his face. "Fancesco's sister. Doesn't like Julian much."

Their gazes held for several long, drawn out heartbeats. Then Mac reached for the phone on his desk. "I'm taking you off this case, Danny."

"Wait, Mac." He'd been expecting this, had practiced arguments all the way from interrogation. But, really, only one would make sense. "No one knows Staten Island like I do, Mac. I grew up with these guys or at least their older brothers. I know how these things work."

Mac searched his face. "This is a bad idea, Danny."

"No one else can get the goods, Mac," Danny told him, his voice low and intense. "Hawkes and Flack are gonna be workin' on it. No one can claim we were biased."

"Flack's definitely off."

Danny blinked. "What?"

"If you're working this case, I want a detective with no personal connection to either you or Sassone backing you up," Mac told him. "Every judge in this city knows you and Flack are closer than brothers. You two have pulled too many capers—"

Stopping himself, Mac rubbed at his temple. "I'm keeping you on this case against my better judgement, Danny. Do not, under any circumstances, let me down."

Danny stood, squaring his shoulders. "I won't," he promised.

Mac reached for his phone again, looking tired and somehow older than he had when Danny entered. "I'll talk to Flack." Danny nodded, already heading for the door, but Mac's voice stopped him. "Danny."

Turning back, he frowned. "Yeah?"

"Don't talk to anybody about this. You find anything, you come straight to me. You don't talk to Flack, you don't talk to anyone on the team. This is done entirely by the book and discretely. I don't want it getting around what you're looking for."

Danny's stomach churned. Mac was nervous. That was never a good sign.

xxxxx

Anonymous Reviews:

seaandsun: Both the questions you posed are answered in the next couple of chapters. I promise!

meghan: Sorry about the time between updates. My work is bit hectic so weekends are about the only time I have to write. Sigh. Stupid world getting in the way of my muse!


	8. May 2008

A.N. It might be helpful to know that while writing most of this chapter, I was listening to "World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies on repeat. Listening to it might get you in the mood.

_**May 1**_

"Why is this case getting to you so badly?" Lindsay asked in a low voice.

The sound of cars flying through the night outside his apartment building filled the room as she waited for his response. She had an idea of why, but she wanted him to confirm her suspicions, to admit to her that his past was remarkably similar to these boys'. And so she whispered, worried that if she spoke too loudly it would break the spell and he'd turn away, avoiding the questions like he usually did.

Danny didn't move, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment with a disturbingly neutral expression. Danny was never neutral, too emotional at the core to be anything so subtle. The sight of his blank face made her chew on her lip. Finally, he spoke.

"Because…what happened to these guys? It's what happens to most kids from Staten Island. The girls work in bars or strip clubs, sometimes a hair salon. If they're lucky, they get knocked up right outta high school by a guy who'll marry 'em, and they're set for life. If they're lucky," he stressed in a bitter tone.

Lindsay let him brood, watching his profile as his face grew dark and resigned. "What happens to the boys?" she finally whispered.

Danny turned his head to look at her, so small next to him. He was getting too close to spilling the secrets, despite what he'd promised Mac. In a few days, after he caught the guy, what he told Lindsay wouldn't matter. He could tell her everything, _would_ tell her everything. But right now his loyalty had to be to Mac, despite how much he hated it; Mac had done too much for Danny to be betrayed now. Carefully, Danny turned onto his side and pillowed his head on his bent arm.

"They don't usually leave unless it's in a box. And while they're there they sell cars or drugs, get married, procreate."

"But you got yourself out," Lindsay said, as though trying to remind him.

"I just got lucky," he muttered. "Baseball—"

Lindsay shook her head fiercely. "Baseball didn't get you out, Danny. You worked hard. You got yourself out. That must have taken…incredible strength of character."

Danny closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him. Her fingers gently stroked his cheek until the urge to see her again overwhelmed him and his lids fluttered open. She smiled softly as his eyes roamed over her face. God, she was beautiful.

"Do you know how amazing that makes you?" she whispered to him across the three inches that separated their faces.

Gazing at her, Danny came to a rather startling realization. When he was with Lindsay, none of the crap from his past seemed as dark or threatening. It had always been that way, since the moment he'd stopped fighting her presence in his lab and accepted her for the amazing person she was. She'd smile that blinding smile, and he'd forget the rest of the world. Every time.

More than that, she'd made him strive to be better. A better man, a better investigator. He'd always tried, but now he tried harder. It wasn't that she made him want to be a better man; he'd always wanted that. But Lindsay made him feel like maybe he was getting somewhere. If she thought he was good enough…well, that was really all that mattered.

When his lips covered hers, she eased across those three inches separating their bodies and he rolled her under him. It wasn't fast or overrun with heat as it usually was for them. Their movements were slow, and Danny could feel them savoring each other.

He made it his mission to softly touch every millimeter of her body with his hands, lips, tongue. Her skin was so perfect, soft with that mild glow that he couldn't quite pinpoint the origin of. For so long—long before she'd noticed him, maybe since the moment he'd met her—she'd enticed him, lured him to her, made his heart ache with how beautiful she was.

It was the most amazing feeling he'd ever experienced, and he wanted to give it back to her. And with every moan, every gasp of pleasure that escaped her, he knew she felt it too.

By the time he slid into her, the passion had built to a fever pitch between them. Still, though, they moved slowly together, so slowly, as though they were trying to make every second last a lifetime.

Staring down at her, he was just so grateful she was in his life. That everything in his past was simply in his past now. Somehow she managed to push away the demons nipping at his heels. Lindsay was his future. The only future he wanted.

And, as time slowed around them and everything seemed possible, Danny found himself wondering if every moment of his life had been leading to this one. It was crazy, he knew that dimly in the back of his mind, but it seemed to explain so many things.

How no woman had ever charmed him like she had. How easy it was to be with her, so easy it was like breathing. How he couldn't get enough of her, even as she moved with him.

Sliding against her, he reveled in the way her back arched with the pleasure. He dropped his head to rest against her shoulder, concentrating on her and only her as he moved inside her. Her hands brushing over his shoulders down to his hips, her nails digging into his skin as he slowed even further. He had to make this last. He wanted it to last forever. He wanted to be with her forever.

The feeling rose in his chest, expanding it until his throat swelled. He'd never felt this way before. Never had sex been so intense, like a form of worship. No one could touch them here, not when they were together. Everyone else could go to hell as long as she was with him.

Raising his head, he gently brushed a kiss against her lips. "Look at me, Lindsay."

She moaned and arched her back again, her fingers trying to urge him to move faster. "Look at me," he insisted, loving every bit of her. He was in love with her. So in love with her his throat ached with the emotion.

The urge to say it, to tell her, was so intense he could feel the words rising in his throat like they were made of helium. He clamped his mouth shut, knowing this would be the wrong time. Wanting her to know beyond the shadow of a doubt how much he meant the words, not to think that he was caught up in the moment, in the feel of her clenching around him.

Her eyes finally blinked open, and he leaned down to gently brush the tip of his nose against hers. One of her hands moved back up his body to rest against his cheek and it was his turn to squeeze his eyes shut at the tenderness of it.

"Don't stop," she whispered when he faltered.

The feelings rushed through him again, a thousand times more intense at the sound of her voice and he had to beat them back or else he knew he would break. He would say the words, and she would question them. He never wanted her to question the sincerity of his love.

"Never," he whispered back, training his eyes on hers and holding them as he watched her fall over the edge.

When he woke up a few hours later, Lindsay was gone. He'd expected that, of course, since the rest of the team was going crazy while he and Hawkes were stuck on this case. He knew he wouldn't see her for another day or so, except maybe in the hallway at work. But that was all right.

He just had to cauterize his past and then they'd get married, have kids. Okay, maybe she wasn't ready for kids yet. He could wait.

They had forever, regardless of whether it started that morning or at the end of the week. The truth of it rang in his mind like a bell, satisfaction spreading through his body like warm honey. Forever would start soon enough.

_**May 4**_

Lindsay rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, the spot on his body that had been created for them to fit together perfectly. "I guess I'm not going to see you all week," she murmured.

Danny pressed a kiss to her temple and tightened his arm around her waist. He was glad he'd snuck away on his lunch hour, even though it had taken him twenty minutes to get here, would take thirty to get back at this time of day, and he'd barely gotten ten minutes with her. It was worth it.

"You got Friday off?" he asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled, busy trying to shift closer.

Watching her yawn sleepily, Danny felt a pang of guilt and hoped fervently that he'd soon find the evidence he needed. Mac had been forced to take Hawkes off the Sassone case because of the current caseload, which was all right really since Danny had been having a hell of a time trying to keep the truth of what they were looking for from Hawkes. But even with Hawkes back in rotation, the entire team was picking up the slack on Danny's end.

"Let's plan on dinner Friday, how's that?" 

The reflexes of an athlete were the only things that saved his jaw as her head swept upward at lightening speed. "I'm going to cook," she told him.

"Huh?" he asked nervously. The determined look on her face told him she wasn't joking.

"I have this recipe," she said mysteriously.

His eyes narrowed. "The enchiladas?"

"Nope." He wracked his brain while she grinned. "You'll never guess, so don't even try." She looked so pleased with herself that he stifled a smile and tried to pull her even more into his body.

The perfect plan was forming in his mind. Friday night, that was the time. That was when he would tell her he loved her. He would eat whatever she made, every single bite, tell her it was delicious whether it was or not, and then he would tell her. No big speeches or grand gestures, just something quiet, normal, but special because she'd know he meant it and know that he recognized how much it meant to her to cook for him.

He longed to say the words now, right now with her snuggled in next to him, but he had to go in a few seconds and he wanted to savor saying them for the first time. To be able to follow the admission by making love to her, whispering the words into her skin until she was branded with them.

Running a hand down her hair, he wondered how something that had always terrified him could suddenly seem as easy as breathing.

"You should go," she mumbled sleepily.

Danny nodded, running his free hand through her soft curls, fascinated by the way her hair fell perfectly back into place. Other women he'd been with had used so much product he usually couldn't even get his fingers through it, but Lindsay's was always clean and shiny.

Clearing his throat, he pushed a curl behind her ear and watched it defiantly fall free again. "Yeah. I should go."

"Okay."

Her eyes were closed now, her breathing starting to even out and Danny stifled a laugh. Gently, he shifted her off his shoulder and stood, barely managing to hold her upright. Then he slipped his arms under her and carried her to the bedroom to carefully tuck her under the covers.

His eyes flitted over her face, soaking her in. Even unconscious, her soul seemed to shine through her face, so sweet and peaceful. She drew him in ways he'd never imagined a woman could. All he wanted to do was crawl in the bed with her and watch her sleep with her weight against him.

Instead, kissing her forehead, he paused only to set an alarm for her shift before booking it back to the station. Johnson, the unbiased detective Mac had managed to wrangle into taking the case, would have Julian back in interrogation by now. And Danny thought it was time he and Julian got acquainted. Though when he walked in the room and was met by the sight of Julian slouched in a chair, Danny had to tamp down on a sudden urge to punch the younger man.

Julian's eyes locked on Danny as soon as he entered the room. "Hi, Julian. I'm detective Daniel Messer. Crime scene division."

"How you doin'?" Julian asked warily.

Danny could see the kid knew who he was, could see the calculation going on behind Julian's eyes. For some reason, it made him feel cheerful.

"Better than you. Things aren't lookin' good for you here," Danny said as he slid into a chair across the table from the younger man.

Julian sighed and straightened from his slouch. "What're you talkin' about, detective?"

Danny tossed down the file he was holding. It made a nice _thwack_ as it hit the metal. "I'm talkin' about the fact that you're the only link between these murders. That ain't good for you, man."

"Isn't that, whatcha call it, circumstantial evidence?" Julian asked, snapping his fingers as if that would jog his memory.

Danny tamped down on the uncomfortable urge to squirm. Julian was right; they didn't have anything. Danny just wanted to see if Julian would slip in his fear. But apparently cockiness was hereditary because Julian looked an awful lot like Sonny sitting in the chair across from him.

"Julian, this is serious—"

"You think I don't know that?" Julian interrupted. "I don't see how you're gonna pin this one me, though."

Danny eyed him at the implication. Was he seriously that obvious? They'd played this so carefully, never letting Julian know they suspected him.

"Julian, I'm tryin' to help you here. And you're not exactly cooperatin."

"Cooperatin'?" Julian snorted, glancing away with an amused smile. Then turning back, he leaned across the table with a serious expression. "Do you seriously expect me to _cooperate_ while you put me away like you did my brother?"

Danny's eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth, Sassone."

"Oh, whatcha ya gonna do, Messer?" Julian taunted, his accent thickening. "Throw me in jail? With what evidence? You got nothin' on me, but you keep draggin' me in here."

"Yeah, I'm sure the standing warrant was a nice, friendly incentive," Danny said mockingly.

Julian sneered. "Just like your brother. Always thinkin' you know the answers."

He would not blow up. He would not smash this kid's face in. Tamping down on the rage, Danny calmly raised an eyebrow. "Knew my brother, did you?"

Julian leaned back in his chair, satisfied he'd made his point. "Yeah, I knew him. Know what got him killed, too."

"Your brother had that pleasure, though, right?" Danny said, caught by Julian's choice of language. The younger man just shook his head disgustedly and looked away.

What answers was he referring to that he had and Danny didn't? How did Julian know what got Louie killed?

The sheer number of possible answers were staggering. Tired of running in circles with the kid, Danny stood, wondering if he'd thrown away his only edge by entering this room and facing Julian.

"You did this, Julian. I know it, you know it, and soon a judge will know it." Suddenly the door swung open, and Johnson stood in the doorway, gesturing with his head towards the hallway.

Leaving Julian to stew in his own juices, Danny shut the door behind himself. "What's up?"

"We gotta let him go," Johnson said grimly.

Danny's back stiffened. "Seriously?"

"His father put the pressure on in some high places." Danny scoffed, pacing away and then back. Johnson shook his head. "We got nothing. Everyone knows it. Get the evidence and I can hold him."

"Right," Danny muttered, slapping the file against his thigh and stalking off down the hallway.

_**May 6**_

Bone tired, Danny opened his email, ready for the day to be over even though it had barely begun. The usual spam, a note from his mother, a reminder from Lindsay about dinner on Friday. Despite his exhaustion, he grinned slightly at the excitement that came across even through the words on the screen.

Opening the last message, Danny skimmed it and was about to close it when the words sank in. He slowly straightened, his eyes going over the words again, then again, then a fourth time with panic beginning to pound through his veins.

"This one's for you, Danny-boy."

Suddenly, a tinkling version of the Irish ballad came out of his speakers, and he frantically tried to find the link within the email. Nothing. It was blank. The song was an instrumental version, but he knew the words by heart having heard the song as a taunt repeatedly during his childhood.

_Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling _

_From glen to glen and down the mountainside._

_The summer's gone, and all the roses falling_

_Tis you, tis you, must go and I must bide…_

In the odd context, the words were eerie, particularly since, in the middle of the second verse—all about death and lying under meadows—the song was abruptly cut off, only to start again several silent moments later.

Slamming out of the office, Danny ran through the department, jerking open doors to labs and leaving just as suddenly. He could feel everyone staring but his heart was beating too quickly, his breath too ragged, to explain. Finally, he found him, bent over a keyboard in the AV lab.

"Adam. I need you."

His body rocking back from the surprise, Adam's head jerked up. "Oh, hey, Danny. Sure. Give me twenty minutes—"

"Now," Danny snapped, slamming back out the door and hoping that Adam was following.

Hours later, they were no closer to the source of the email than they'd been that morning. After breaking the code on the email—a feat that had taken four hours just by itself—Adam had checked the lab's server and the server the email had originated from, only to find that it hadn't originated there at all. Rather, it had been bounced across the internet on a complicated trail of servers like some sort of international, digital chain letter.

But Danny knew. Oh, he knew where it had come from. Julian was after _him_. Danny wasn't sure if Julian had started all of this with the specific intention of going after Danny, or if his random assignation to the case had put the thought in Julian's twisted sociopathic mind.

Either way, it didn't change anything. In the face of such a direct attack, Danny was left with only one recourse: Going back to the evidence.

_**May 9**_

Danny hadn't wanted Adam's help with the trace. He'd wanted to take the load on himself because Louie had died for Danny's freedom, and now Julian Sassone was threatening to turn that legacy to ash. Danny would do this for his brother.

But Mac always had the last word, and Adam had quietly slipped into the lab at some point on Tuesday while Danny was working. And by the time Friday rolled around, the roiling feeling in Danny's stomach had cemented into a ball of resigned despair.

Nothing. There was nothing.

"Danny, there's nothing here," Adam said in that quiet way he had.

He'd spent the day going over Fancesco's clothing for the seventh time. Every molecule of dirt had been carefully processed, but it didn't get them any closer to the killer, just the ingredients in New York City asphalt.

Danny stared blankly down at the shoes he'd been poring over. Lindsay had told him once about whip-shy horses, how you had to speak softly to them, ease them into trusting you, and it suddenly occurred to Danny that Adam would have been good at that sort of thing.

Danny wondered if Adam's father had beaten all the fight out of him early on to give him that soft voice. Then he realized that Adam probably hadn't used the soft voice on himself. There had been someone else Adam had tried to soothe.

But he was thinking of nonsense to distract himself and nothing could distract him right now.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice too ragged to say anymore.

Tearing off his gloves, he tossed them in the garbage, not bothering to help Adam repack the bags of evidence. Running a hand over his short hair, he headed blindly towards the locker room, wishing he could run, but knowing that Adam was watching.

He knew what he had to do.

Banging through the door to the locker room, Danny was stripping off his shirt before he even reached his locker. He ripped at his clothing, not caring if he tore it, just needing to cleanse himself of this day. As if the essence of it was trapped in the cloth.

Yanking at his locker, he snatched his towel from the hanger and stumbled to the shower. He was losing control of his breathing, the air entering and leaving his lungs in ragged gasps, and he turned the water to full blast in order to mask the sound.

He knew what he had to do, and he hated it. Knowing Sonny's brother was out there, wanting revenge, planning it at every moment, made Danny's heart clench. Nowadays, the mob didn't kill cleanly, they went after your weak spot, watched you suffer until you broke.

One Sassone had already killed his brother. His father was his mother's protection. The only things in his life worth losing were his job and Lindsay.

Mac had his back, Danny was sure of that after the last time. And he almost welcomed the chance to beat Julian at his own game in that arena; Danny knew he could do it.

But Lindsay was a wild card. They could go after her any time, and he'd be powerless to help. She was his soft underbelly. They hadn't been very public with their relationship; he'd only told his family, and they knew better than to repeat family business. So, there was a good chance Julian had never heard of Lindsay Monroe.

Yes, Danny knew what he had to do, and it was going to break him. Pulling his arm back, he smashed his fist into the unforgiving tile of the shower.

_**Still May 9**_

"It's open," she called through the intercom.

She pressed the buzzer and flipped the lock on her door. Hurrying back to the stove, she stirred the pasta like he'd shown her then gave the sauce a stir as well, hoping it wouldn't start to stick to the pan.

Her door opened behind her, and she called hello over her shoulder. Instead of the usual slam, she heard the door quietly click shut.

A thread of worry made her glance back. He was standing in the space between the kitchen and living room with a blank expression. She tried for a nervous smile, but he just looked at her. Her eyes drifted over him, trying to discern what was wrong, and caught on his bandaged hand.

Gasping, she started towards him. The area around the bandage was almost purple and slightly swollen. "What happened?"

"Nothing." His voice was a verbal slap, and she nearly tripped over her own feet to stop herself in time.

"O-Okay." He didn't say anything else, just stared, so she tried to fill the silence. "Dinner's almost ready. Well, I think so anyway. You might want to check it."

"Lindsay," he said, cutting off her nervous babbling.

The use of her given name was the last clue she needed. Biting her lip, she met his eyes. They were so cold.

"Don't do this," she said before she could stop herself. For a moment, she wanted to wince at the pleading in her voice then she dismissed it and let herself beg. She needed him. "Please."

She wanted him to say he didn't know what she meant, but she knew him well now, and he didn't. She saw something flash across his face then his lids slid down to cover those expressive eyes.

"Was it the pasta? I swear you don't have to eat it," she told him with a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"Lindsay—" he said again and this time she did wince.

"Don't call me that," she whispered, dropping her eyes as the horrible reality sank in.

"I'm sorry," he told her gravely, his voice even and controlled.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. There was a pause as he stared at her and she gazed at the floor. "You should go," she said finally. She hated that her voice couldn't rise above that broken whisper.

Something seemed to break between them. It was almost physical, and as the pain of it registered in her mind, he stepped forward. "I—"

"No," she said quietly, holding up her hand. Eventually, she managed to force her eyes to his again. "You don't get to see me cry over this."

Something flickered again, but she didn't care. She felt so cold as he wandered back out the door. He'd never even taken off his jacket.

Turning to the stove, she studied the sauce simmering there. His mother's recipe. Lindsay carefully turned off the heat and moved the pot to a cool holder on the counter. Dipping a spoon into the sauce, she tasted it and closed her eyes. It was delicious. With even movements, she dumped it down the drain and flipped on the garbage disposal. The pasta followed.

Ripping off the apron, she left the dishes behind and trudged down the hall to her bedroom. One of his sweatshirts was on the bed where he'd left it several days before, and she stared at it listlessly. Reaching out, Lindsay gently picked it up and cradled it in her hands as if it was too delicate to touch.

Kicking off her shoes, she slipped beneath the covers, pulling the blankets up to her chin and squeezing her eyes shut. The tears leaked past anyway, no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay, and she quickly wiped them away only to have them replaced with more. Frustrated, she kept her eyes tightly shut, breathing in the scent lingering on his sweatshirt.

_**May 10**_

When she woke up, her head was pounding from crying half the night. She'd fallen asleep sometime after one am without ever having changed into pajamas. It had hurt too much to move.

The fuzzy feeling on her teeth didn't bother her as much as it should, but she stumbled to the bathroom to brush them anyway. It wasn't until she tried to take the cap off her toothpaste that she realized his sweatshirt was still clutched in her hand.

Staring down at it, the pain swept over her again and she shuddered. It seemed to grow with every echoing thud of her heart in her chest as she felt the fabric between her fingers. Dropping it, she roughly twisted off the cap and focused her entire being on getting her teeth clean.

While brushing, she briefly considered calling in sick, but what good would it do? She'd have to face Danny at some point—which was why you never got involved with a coworker—and he was going to see through any I'm Fine act she put on anyway.

Until the night before, she'd thought everything was okay. They'd been happy, she thought. And that was the kicker, really: She'd thought she made him happy.

She'd thought she knew him better than this; she'd tricked herself into thinking they belonged together. Now, looking back, she saw the way he'd avoided her the past few days. She'd chalked his behavior up to getting overly involved in his case, which he did on a semi-regular basis.

It had been more intense with the current case, which was understandable since he seemed to identify with the young men who'd died. Maybe he saw Louie's life mapped out in theirs. Whatever the reason, she'd explained his absence with work.

Spitting out the foam, she rinsed her toothbrush and carefully hung it back in its holder. She knew better now, she supposed.

She practically fell into the shower and it took her a full minute to realize the water was ice cold. Resting her head against the tile, she turned the water up to hot and took a deep breath. She felt exhausted, like her soul was tired. She was sure she was heavier than she had been the day before.

Frustrated with herself, she banged her head gently against the wall once, then straightened. She felt so dirty. Pouring herself into getting as clean as she could, she squeezed her eyes shut. She let every thought focus on remembering how to use things like soap and conditioner, both of which seemed so foreign in the context of this new and scary reality. One in which she didn't even know herself anymore.

She refused to fall apart. She was stronger than that.

Stepping out of the water, she pulled her hair back in a bun so she wouldn't have to dry it. Then she walked purposefully back to her bedroom and picked out a comfortable yet professional outfit. Comfort was important the day after a break up. At least, that's what she'd been told by friends who'd actually had real boyfriends. All she'd had was a fake fiancé. Danny had thrown her into the deep end, and now she didn't know what to do.

She tried to distract herself on the subway by creating people's life stories, an inane game she vaguely remembered playing with Freddy as a child. The third time she fabricated a tragic love story, she gave up and counted red shirts instead.

By the time she walked through the elevator doors into the familiar hallway of the lab, her stomach was twisted in knots. Almost as soon as she looked up, she spotted Jen a ways down the hall. A rush of relief swept through her until she saw the man her best friend was talking to.

The sight of Jen flirting with Adam—the perfect boyfriend who would never stray or leave without explanation—just made her feel worse this morning. Groaning at the weakness in that, Lindsay jerked her eyes forward and tried to surreptitiously change direction to the locker room.

"Monroe!"

She'd been trying so hard to appear calm and collected, the sudden yell made her stumble. She could feel herself blushing and wished she were anywhere but in that hallway at that moment. In fact, Communist Russia sounded preferable.

"What's with you?" Jen asked, having jogged to catch up with her.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Lindsay muttered, continuing on her path.

"You sure?" Jen asked amusedly.

"No." The honest answer made Lindsay's shoulders want to sag, but she stood straight and pushed open the door to the locker room. Jen's smiled disappeared as she held up a hand and quickly moved to check each row of lockers. Satisfied they were alone, she leaned against the locker next to Lindsay's.

"What's goin' on?" Jen demanded in her no-nonsense Brooklyn accent.

"Danny broke up with me last night." Hearing herself say it aloud, Lindsay winced and fumbled with the latch on her locker.

"Oh my God," Jen mumbled, her arms dropping from across her chest. "Linds, I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." Hanging her coat and purse inside, she closed the door and rested her forehead against the cold metal.

"Did he say why?"

"He barely said anything," she whispered. "He didn't have to. I knew the minute he walked through the door."

"But he didn't say the words? Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding."

"It's not," Lindsay told her, lifting a hand to push away from the locker. "Believe me."

"It's just…it doesn't make any sense," Jen said apologetically.

"I know. I thought—" Lindsay nearly tore out a stray curl trying to tuck it behind her ear. "I thought we were happy, you know? Now I find out he was planning to break up with me and I thought we'd be together…forever."

She sniffled a little, and Jen began searching her pockets. "I'm so stupid," Lindsay said, angry at herself for the tears and the plans she'd hung on a love that didn't exist for him.

"You're not stupid," Jen said, offering the tissue she'd finally found.

"We…we made love a few days ago. It was so…intense. How could that have meant nothing to him?"

Jen shook her head sympathetically. "Maybe he had reasons, Lindsay."

"Yeah," she whispered. "He doesn't love me."

Jen's mouth opened then closed. After a moment of hard silence, her face softened. "Then he's an idiot."

Lindsay laughed but shook her head. "He's not an idiot. He's wonderful."

"Whoa. Oh, no you don't. This is the time to get mad." Jen stopped at the tears welling again in Lindsay's eyes.

"I'm the idiot," Lindsay told her. "I went and fell in love with a playboy."

A panicked look crossed Jen's face, and Lindsay knew her friend couldn't argue. Since moving to New York, Lindsay had heard over and over again what a playboy Danny was. She should have heeded the warnings, but he'd been so persistent, so sweet, so kind, she couldn't. She hadn't let herself believe the things she'd heard. And now she was paying for the only time in her life she'd trusted someone.

A feeling of guilt coursed through her as she looked up at Jen, staring down with a helpless expression. That wasn't true. She trusted Jen. She trusted Mac, Stella, Hawkes, Flack. Hell, the professional part of her even still trusted Danny. She knew he'd take a bullet for her in a second, as she would for him. He just didn't want to be with her.

"Okay," Lindsay said, pushing all thoughts out of the way. "Time to go."

"Maybe you should call in sick," Jen said worriedly.

Lindsay smiled, her lips trembling but strong. "I'm not sick, Jen."

"But you could be. We'll come up with something really rare and communicable. We'll ask Hawkes."

Lindsay winced. Oh God. She hadn't even thought about Hawkes. Or Flack and Adam. They and Jen were the only four at work who knew for sure about Lindsay and Danny, a fact that had bothered her when she thought they'd spend the rest of their lives together. But now she was just grateful Stella and Mac were unaware. It was bad enough Hawkes and Flack would know Danny had ripped her heart out, and she had to work with them on a daily basis. To have her boss know…To have him try and schedule them separately, try not to give them cases together…The idea made her stomach roll.

"No," she said finally, when the urge to take Jen up on her idea had bowed to her common sense. "I have to face him sometime. And I don't want him thinking I wasn't strong enough to do it."

"Okay," Jen said quietly. Suddenly, her pager went off. Slipping it from her belt, Jen pressed a few buttons and sighed. "I have to go. Call me later, okay?"

"Yeah."

_**May 13**_

"Yo, Messer!"

More than anything, he wanted to keep moving towards the elevators. But Danny stopped and turned at the sound of his name, his entire being too drained to fight the automaton-like response. Flack was striding down the hallway, a satisfied look on his face.

"Hey, man. What's up?" Danny called back.

Grinning wryly, Flack waited to speak again until he was just a few steps away. "You look like hell."

Danny forced a smile. "I'm gettin' too old to be pullin' triples," he joked without much enthusiasm, reaching up to rub at his eyes under his glasses.

Flack whistled. "Jesus, Messer. I thought you'd closed that Sassone case."

"Closed isn't the word I'd use," Danny told him, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Officially, it's filed on the corner of Mac's desk."

He knew Flack suspected at least part of the truth about that case, but he also knew that Flack wasn't stupid enough to ask questions. Danny hadn't volunteered the information following Flack's removal, and Flack hadn't spoken of it again until that moment. But Danny had noticed the concerned looks his best friend kept throwing at him.

And it was hard to forget them when Flack was giving him one again. "Well, at least Monroe's waiting at home to help you relax," Flack said, obviously forcing the leer on his face.

There was a question there, behind Flack's words, but Danny felt dazed at the sound of her name. "Lindsay went home?" he murmured, glancing vacantly around the lab, already knowing she wasn't there. He'd seen her leave two hours before, had watched her even as he told himself to look away.

Flack's smirk slid sideways into a frown. "Everythin' all right there?"

"Not really, no."

Danny shifted his bag to the opposite shoulder, his eyes still darting around, as though she would magically appear. Vaguely, he noticed Flack glance around the hallway before stepping closer. "You break things off?"

Snapping out of his trance, Danny met Flack's eyes and then let his own skitter away again. He couldn't force himself to say the words; they hurt too much.

Flack tried again. "Did she break things off?"

"No," Danny muttered, unable to look his friend in the eye as he danced around the truth.

Danny knew himself to be a close-mouthed bastard about the feelings he had for Lindsay. From the beginning—when he'd first discovered the way she made his heart thump uncomfortably fast just by walking in a room—he'd hoarded those feelings, clutching them close to his chest like a full house in a poker game.

But even back then Flack had seen right through him, as usual. So the revelation that Danny had ended things had to be a bit of a shock for his best friend. And, as usual, Flack didn't seem to know what to do with the emotions Danny had inadvertently revealed. Flack's mouth opened and closed a few times, like he couldn't figure out if he should offer comfort or not.

Apparently, Flack was even smarter than Danny had always believed since his best friend crossed his arms over his chest and gave Danny a searching look. "What the hell's going on, Dan? You've been a zombie for days."

Danny shrugged, the familiar feeling of desperation rising in his gut. He'd felt it every few minutes for the last few days and nothing seemed to help. He threw himself into work, but it didn't distract him enough. Every piece of evidence reminded him that at any given time Lindsay was but a few flimsy glass walls away from him, and he couldn't have her.

It had gotten to the point where he couldn't raise his eyes from his work-space, afraid he would see her and go to her. It hurt too much to look at her, to see her so sad. He'd done that. He'd put that look in her eyes. It didn't seem like anyone else had noticed how sad she was, but he had. He could see the pain every time her eyes landed on him, no matter that he always looked away.

"Danny?"

Jerking his eyes to Flack's face, he saw the confusion there and winced inwardly. He'd missed something while he was zoning out. He spoke quickly. "You wanna get a drink?"

Flack seemed as surprised at the suggestion as Danny was. "Sure. Yeah. Let me clock out."

Danny nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. "I'll meet you outside," he muttered, turning and practically jogging towards the stairs. Maybe the echoing of his footsteps in the stairwell would drown out his mind's pleading. Or maybe he'd sunk so low he was actually running away.

_**May 21**_

Lindsay rubbed at her shoulder, trying to ease the tension that was starting to throb throughout her body. Considering it had already spread into every muscle, though, the point was probably moot.

"Yo, Hawkes!"

Those rough tones made her throat clench tightly. So tightly she was sure she'd suffocate before she could control the reaction. Then his voice passed the open door of the lab and faded down the hall, leaving just the pain to pound in his absence.

Closing her eyes, Lindsay tried desperately to shut out all the noises of the lab. She'd been doing so well. She could tell Flack knew she and Danny had split, possibly by Danny's own admission. He was starting to rile her, staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking. So intently, as though she were the final clue in a riddle.

But no one else knew. That, at least, was a comfort.

Okay, so Adam and Jen knew, which just left Hawkes in the dark. Eventually he would figure it out, but she didn't want to think about that right now—

"Hey."

Opening her eyes, Lindsay was relieved to find Jen standing next to her. "Hi. What's up?"

Jen kept the smile on her face as she asked quietly, "Are you all right?"

The concern in Jen's eyes made Lindsay sigh. No one else was in the lab; no one would hear. Maybe she could let her guard down for a minute. "I'm fine," she murmured. "Same old, same old."

Jen nodded and Lindsay saw the other woman's arms tighten where they crossed. "What're you up to tonight?"

Understanding dawned and made Lindsay cringe. "Jen, no."

Jen blinked. "What? What'd I do?"

"Nothing," Lindsay said, shaking her head. "Nothing except have me over almost every night for the last two weeks. It's gotta stop, Jen."

Jen uncrossed her arms and reached up to run a hand through her hair. "Linds—"

"I know," Lindsay assured her. "I know you want to do it, and I love you for that. You're my best friend." She smiled wanly, and Jen forced a smile in return. "But you haven't been alone with Adam since Danny—"

Cutting herself off, Lindsay swallowed and looked away. Her fingers were quick as she focused on changing the slide under the lens of the microscope. "I need to start getting over this. I needed to wallow for a little while—"

"Wallow?" Jen snorted. "I don't think sitting in front of my tv watching _Nurse Betty_ on repeat counts as wallowing."

The fear that she would lose control, that the tenuous hold she had on the flood of emotions would waste away, made her fingers clench so hard she nearly snapped the slide in half. Carefully, she placed it back in the evidence box and began to strip her gloves.

"You need to mourn this, Lindsay," Jen said, lowering her voice despite the emptiness of the lab.

"I still love him," Lindsay whispered, refusing to cry.

Jen's eyes were watchful as she nodded, her words gentle as they left her mouth. "I know you do."

"So I have to start moving on." Lindsay's voice strengthened until it was hard, but she could feel herself beginning to crack. "Wallowing apparently doesn't work."

Jen didn't follow when Lindsay strode from the lab, but Lindsay heard her friend sigh. "I told you, you're not wallowing."

_**May 30**_

Jen followed everyone else off the elevator and felt her heart skip a beat as she spotted Adam. Moving out of the stream of people, she started towards him only to pause and frown. He was talking to a woman. A redhead whose hair lit up like fire even under the fluorescent lights of the precinct.

He laughed and the woman touched his arm, her hand finding that comfortable place above his wrist that Jen had only recently discovered. Jen felt something tremble inside and told herself she was stupid, this was Adam, nothing was wrong. Then he was nodding at whatever the redhead was saying and reaching over to hug the tiny woman, who barely came up to his shoulder.

The woman brushed a kiss over his cheek as he began to move away, and Jen's stomach clenched as he blushed slightly. She really needed to get over there. But by the time Jen shook herself out of her paralysis, the woman was striding away.

Jen tried to emote a sense of calm nonchalance as she sauntered over to him. Adam eventually took his eyes from the other woman's swinging hips and spotted her. "Hey," he called, a grin splitting his face.

"Hey yourself. Who was that?" Jen asked, gesturing towards the woman heading out the door.

He frowned lightly. "Cynthia? Old friend."

Jen raised her eyebrows. "From Phoenix? Why's she in town?"

"Uh, no, not from Phoenix," he said, glancing around nervously.

She watched him pull out a pen to fiddle with and smiled at the familiarity of the gesture. "I'm confused," she told him, reaching out to still the pen.

"She's my ex-girlfriend," Adam finally said, keeping his voice low.

"Oh. Why didn't you just say that?" Jen asked, somehow keeping the suspicion out of her voice, leaving it light, casual.

Adam shrugged. "Saying it usually leads to an awkward conversation. I was trying to avoid it."

"Ah. No need." She smiled brightly.

He looked like he was going to say something, but her phone vibrated on her belt and she pulled it out to check the caller id. "It's Mac, I gotta go."

"Jen—"

She smiled at him. "I gotta go. We still on for dinner?"

"Of course." He looked resigned as she backed down the hallway.

Flipping the phone open, she turned to head for the elevator. "Angell." This time Adam's eyes didn't leave her as she walked away.

It was a few hours before she managed to lure Lindsay out of the lab with a cup of coffee from Madeline's. Getting nowhere on her case, Lindsay handed needed much persuading to follow Jen to the miraculously empty break room while she waited for her results from DNA.

"Adam's ex-girlfriend lives in New Jersey," she blurted as Lindsay took the lid off the to-go cup.

Wrinkling her brow, Lindsay shook her head in confusion. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jen bit her lip and paced a bit. "She's sniffing around."

"Okay. Still not getting the problem."

"She's gorgeous," Jen said, arms tight around her stomach.

"So are you," Lindsay pointed out, pouring sugar into her coffee.

Waving that off, Jen sighed. "I mean, Helen of Troy gorgeous. Big boobs, red hair." She swallowed painfully. "She's probably smart, too."

Lindsay sent her a half-grin. "So are you."

"I mean, Adam smart. Like…rocket scientist smart."

"Adam's not a rocket scientist. And you're just as smart as whoever this woman is. What's her name? Bynthia?"

Trying not to smile, Jen rolled her eyes. "Cynthia." She followed Lindsay to the table and lowered her voice, despite the emptiness of the room. "Sometimes, when he talks to me, I don't know what he's trying to say."

Lindsay frowned. "Is he speaking English?"

"Lindsay, come on." Jen sighed exasperatedly.

Calming down, Lindsay shook her head again and took a sip of her coffee. "Jen, you've got him. Just trust that he loves you as much as you love him."

"Not possible," Jen muttered, rubbing her temple and shutting her eyes against the panicked tears.

Lindsay set down her the cardboard cup. "Jen," she began, sounding worried.

Jen bit her lip. Lindsay had seemed to be doing so well over the past week, almost back to her usual sunny disposition, but Jen knew that was more ruse than fact. And, really, wasn't that one reason Jen was so scared by Cynthia's sudden appearance?

Lindsay had lost Danny, the very man who'd been smitten enough to invent their own Valentine's Day so he could celebrate with Lindsay; the man who covered Lindsay's bed in rose petals the night of her birthday; the man who'd been unable to resist showing Lindsay's picture to his mother, despite his hesitance to introduce the two.

If Lindsay could lose Danny, who'd been, to all appearances, a smitten kitten, why couldn't Jen lose Adam, whose own emotions were too buried to discern?

Suddenly, Jen felt horrible. Lindsay was still heartbroken over Danny and here her best friend was dwelling on her own boyfriend troubles. Lindsay didn't need any more worries right now. All she needed was to concentrate on getting over The Jackass.

"I'm fine. I'm going to see him tonight, anyway. We'll talk then," Jen told her friend brightly. Reaching over, she picked up Lindsay's coffee and took a swig. "I gotta get back to work."

And she did have work to do. Work that should have distracted her completely from anything else, but even as she ran license plates and checked alibis, the back of her mind was wondering when the other shoe would drop. Why was Adam's ex-girlfriend suddenly popping up, so casually as if she had every right to be there, when Jen had never even heard of the tramp?

No, not a tramp. Adam didn't date tramps. Which made Cynthia all the more threatening.

xxxxx

"So, why'd Cynthia stop by today?" Jen asked abruptly.

She'd wracked her brain for a mature, adult way to broach the subject, knowing she was prone to leaping to emotional conclusions. Arriving at Adam's, she hadn't said a word about Cynthia, merely holding up the copy of _Night at the Roxbury_ she'd brought with her.

However, the taking-the-time-to-ponder strategy had felt more like stewing in her own juices than anything else, and by the time she spoke, the words burst out like an accusation.

Adam's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked, pulling his eyes away from the tv.

Trying to calm down, Jen looked at him innocently. "Why'd Cynthia stop by the lab?"

Setting his fork down, Adam turned slightly to face her. "Jen, what—" He sighed as her expression became harder, molding into the interrogation mask he'd seen only a few times. "She wanted to have lunch together."

Before she could speak, he continued. "We're still friends and we get together sometimes to catch up."

"Oh." The word made Adam's breath hitch, and Jen glanced at his chest to make sure it was still moving rhythmically. "How come I've never heard of her?"

Her voice wasn't accusing and it seemed to calm Adam a bit. "I don't know. It hasn't come up, I guess."

"But you've gotten together with her recently, right?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"A few weeks ago," he admitted after a pause.

"Why didn't you mention it?"

"I…I don't know."

The questions came faster now as Jen began to put the puzzle together. "How long ago did you break up?"

"A year or so."

"How long were you dating?"

As she grew more cool and controlled, he looked more worried. "A couple of years."

"But you were still living in—" His eyes were locked on hers and a light suddenly went off in her brain. "Is she the reason you moved to New York?"

"Partly," he admitted slowly, setting his plate on the coffee table. Reaching over, he plucked hers out of her limp fingers and put it next to his.

"Were you in love with her?" she asked, glad her voice was still strong.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Are you still in love with her?"

"No," he told her, more firmly than she'd ever heard him say anything. "Jen, I love you. You know that."

She wanted to ask him why, why a man like him loved her, but instead she just nodded. It was what he'd told her. "What's she do?"

The question seemed to throw him. "She's an associate professor of neuroscience at Princeton."

A deep crease appeared between Jen's eyebrows. "Then why was she in the city?"

Adam shrugged, seeming to think it unimportant. "To see me, I guess."

Rocket science, neuroscience. Like Jen knew the difference. "I shouldn't have asked," she muttered, turning back to the tv.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he picked up her other hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Jen, you have nothing to be jealous about," he said, moving closer to pull her into his arms.

Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her head on his shoulder. Peace settled over her when he brushed a kiss over her temple.

"I love you," she said, desperate to say the words.

"I love you, too," he whispered into her hair and, for a moment, she believed him.


	9. June 2008

A.N. FINALLY, I got this done. I swear I haven't given up on this story. I started a new job recently, and I just haven't had time for anything but work, food and sleep. This chapter hasn't been beta-ed, so I apologize in advance for any glaring errors. And hopefully I'll have July up in the next couple of weeks.

_**June 2**_

Lindsay stuffed the photo into the box on top of the sweatshirt and glanced hurriedly around the room. Her life had become so entwined with Danny's that she wasn't sure anymore where his ended and hers began.

Everything in her apartment reminded her of him, which had become extremely inconvenient over the last few weeks and was why she'd let Jen finally talk her into purging the offending items. But she couldn't afford a new couch, no matter how many times they'd made love there, and the kitchen was somewhat attached to the rest of the apartment. So she'd quickly realized she had to draw the line somewhere.

Hefting the box off the bed, Lindsay carted it out to the living room. Considering it held a sweatshirt, an old baseball jersey, two dvds and a couple of framed photos, it really shouldn't have been heavy. Somehow, though, it felt about ten thousand pounds as she dropped it onto the cushions.

Lindsay shoved the top of the box into place just as the phone rang. Reaching over, she plucked it off the side table and pressed the button. "Hello?"

"You done?"

Sighing, Lindsay collapsed onto the coffee table and stared forlornly at the couch. "Yes, Jen. I followed your orders to a 't.'"

"Good. You shoulda done that weeks ago."

Lindsay snorted. "Like that would've helped."

Silence stretched over the line for a long moment. "You want me to take it to his place?"

"No." Lindsay paused to consider the offer, her eyes sliding to the box as she imagined having to knock on Danny's door and face him. "No," she repeated faintly. "He gets off shift any time now, so I'll head over in an hour."

"Actually," Jen said, sounding hesitant. "He got off early. Adam said he left a couple of hours ago. So he should be home already."

Nerves bubbled to life in Lindsay's stomach. "Crap."

"You're sure—"

"I'm sure," Lindsay said firmly, squeezing her eyes shut. The image of the box that was burned into her retinas, and she winced as it danced over the backs of her eyelids. "God I wish my couch fit in here."

"I don't want to know what that means," Jen muttered. "Look, Adam and I are going to grab an early dinner and then we're heading back to his place to watch a movie. You wanna come?"

"No. Thanks. I'm just gonna—"

"Order orange chicken from Ling Su's and watch the news?"

Lindsay gasped dramatically. "How ever did you guess?"

"Gee, I dunno. Could it be that that's what you've done every night this week?"

Clicking her tongue, Lindsay shook her head as she stood and headed to the bedroom to find shoes. "Only the nights I had off."

"Uh-huh. All right, wild child, I'll talk to you later."

"Sure."

"No, I'm serious. Call me afterwards. Let me know how it goes. How much he cried, how he begged you to come back—"

Snatching her tennis shoes from the floor of her closet, Lindsay opened her mouth to interrupt Jen's tirade but ended up raising an eyebrow as Jen suddenly broke off on a muffled squeak of pain. "Is Adam there with you?" Lindsay ventured.

"Yes, and he stepped on my toe. Ouch! Stop it, you big dummy."

Both eyebrows flew up as she heard a scuffle over the line and then Adam's faint voice. "Let her get off the phone, Jen."

"She is _my_ best friend, Ross, and you're not gonna—Hey!"

The scuffle grew louder as Adam gained possession of the phone. "We'll talk to you later, Lindsay. Call us if you need anything."

"Thanks, Adam."

"Yeah, sure—Ow! Goddamn it, woman, your nails are like talons."

"Well if you don't want to feel my wrath, maybe you shouldn't touch my cell phone. Dumbass."

"Dumbass? I'll show you—"

Lindsay clicked off the phone and tossed it somewhere behind her on the bed as she finished tying the laces on her shoes. Standing, she tucked a loose chunk of hair behind her ear and accidentally caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror.

Pure horror spread through her at the sight of her own reflection.

Sure she'd had the day off and a certain amount of slovenliness was expected; encouraged even when one's job was so demanding on a normal day. Who wanted to make the effort to look good on her rare free day when it could be spent sitting around vegging in front of the tv?

But her current state was ridiculous. She looked like hell.

Warmed over.

In a microwave.

Her hair was falling out of what had been an already sloppy ponytail. She wore her oldest jeans, the ones with the unfortunately placed holes that could be regarded as too rude to wear in public. Her t-shirt was thankfully covered with a ratty old sweatshirt, though the sweatshirt was barely an improvement considering the paint stains and threadbare hems.

Staring at her own reflection, she couldn't help but think _No wonder he left me_. The thought was so depressing she found herself laughing out loud. It was incongruous and, she was sure, reasonably unhealthy to be laughing at her own despair. But she just looked so pathetic. If Danny saw her at that moment, he'd think she couldn't function after losing him.

And, in that awful moment, she suddenly realized that Jen was right about the box. She should've gotten rid of those things a long time ago. Around the time she should have thrown out the judgmental voice in her head that was constantly reminding her she hadn't been good enough for him.

The mere thought of changing exhausted her. She briefly mulled over the idea of just leaving the apartment, to hell what anyone thought, then caught herself. Yanking open her dresser, she pulled out a pretty green sweater—the one Danny had particularly liked, evidenced by his propensity for jumping her when she wore it—and a more appropriate pair of jeans.

She undressed and redressed in record time, refusing on principal to put on more than a touch of mascara before grabbing the box and heading for the subway. She had to do it quickly, before she lost her nerve, because she could already feel herself chickening out and there was no way any of these things could stay in her apartment for another night. Not all boxed up like she was sending her memories to Goodwill.

The trip was anything but short, though it felt about a millisecond long. Before it seemed possible, Lindsay was in front of Danny's building, hesitant to buzz his apartment. She knew she didn't have much choice, people were beginning to stare after all, but she could imagine the shock she'd hear in his voice when she asked to be let in.

And what if he said no, told her he didn't want to see her? God, what would she do then? Leave the box on his doorstep? Maybe bringing the box into work was the better plan.

Before she could make a decision, a well-dressed man came out the door and froze when he saw her standing motionless at their building's front door. For one sick moment, Lindsay was sure he was going to accuse her of something criminal—stalking, perhaps—then the man's face cleared.

"Oh, hey. Fourth floor, right?" he asked, holding the door open for her.

She couldn't find the voice to correct him so she merely smiled, nodding her thanks as she edged inside with her box. She vaguely recognized him from the elevator. He and Danny didn't seem to know each other; she couldn't remember them ever speaking. But he must've lived a few floors above Danny since he was already on the elevator when it hit Danny's floor and stayed on after they got off. And as far as she could remember, he was always dressed to the nines.

Thoughts of the mystery man and why such a snappy dresser would live in Danny's neighborhood kept her busy until she hit the fourth floor. Then she was standing at Danny's door with nothing left to do but knock. Dropping the box at her feet, she rapped her knuckles against his door with more force than strictly necessary.

Her hands naturally found her hips as she waited, then, realizing she must look deranged, she folded her arms across her chest. But that was too combative, and she wanted the next few minutes to go as smoothly as possible. So, she shoved her hands in her pockets and immediately felt like she was waiting for a train. Completely fed up with her own neurosis, Lindsay jerked them back out again just as the door started to open.

Leaving she and Flack to blink at each other in shock. "Uh, hey," he said when he managed to find his voice. "I thought you were—Nevermind."

Her stomach dropped at the implication, and he must have realized how it had sounded because his eyes widened and he threw both hands into the air in front of him. "No. The pizza. I thought you were the—You wanna come in?"

"Uh, no, not really. Is Danny in there?"

Flack nodded, apparently no longer trusting himself to speak, and glanced over his shoulder. Bending, Lindsay picked up the box and shoved it into Flack's arms, despite the beer bottle dangling from one hand.

"Could you just give this to him for me?" she asked quickly.

Flack's face went grim. "What? No, wait. Maybe you should—"

"You got cash, Flack?" Danny's voice came from behind the taller detective, and Lindsay's eyes fell shut at the familiar cadence of his accent.

"It ain't the pizza, Dan. I think you should take this one," Flack said, struggling to shove the balance of the box back into Lindsay's arms.

Refusing to take it, Lindsay shook her head at him, leaving them both balancing half of the box's weight to prevent its fall. "Hey, Danny," she said, her eyes resting somewhere above the third button on Flack's shirt.

There was a pause as the tension became palpable. "Uh…hey." He cleared his throat and tried to ease around Flack. "What's—" His eyes lit on the box still hanging between Flack and Lindsay, and his face went blank.

"Sorry. I should've brought this sooner, but it didn't occur to me—We've been so busy—"

Taking pity on her, Flack eased the box out of her arms and began to back away. "I'll take this to the living room."

Hands suddenly free, Lindsay ran her fingers through her hair, still unable to look at Danny. "It's just a few things you left at my place. There wasn't really much there."

"Thanks," he muttered, leaning against the doorjamb.

Uncomfortable silence fell between them. Though she'd expected it to be difficult, Lindsay had never expected it to be like this. Icy. They'd been so close for so long even before they started dating that Lindsay had assumed a part of that ease would carry over into the aftermath. That after their romance had died, the friendship they'd started out with would be what remained. Apparently that had been an erroneous assumption.

Danny cleared his throat. "You want…a beer…or something?"

"Not really," she mumbled, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear. "I should just—"

His buzzer blared, cutting off anything she was going to say. They both jumped at the sudden noise, and he let out a chuckle that just made him sound bitter before reaching over to press the intercom. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go," she whispered, already backing away. He raised a hand in silent farewell, his eyes never leaving her as he let go of the button for a response.

"Someone…pizza?" the intercom hissed through intense static.

"I got it," Flack called, barreling past Danny out the door a second later. He pointed at Danny as he brandished his wallet. "You stay here. I got it."

Danny squinted at him, obviously confused by Flack's erratic behavior. "Oookay," he drawled. Pressing the button again, he snapped into the intercom, "On our way."

Lindsay hurried down the hall to the elevator and pushed the button, willing it to come quickly and end her humiliation. Flack managed to catch up to her just before the doors slid open, and they stepped forward silently, both turning to lean against the back wall. Cursing the elevator's sluggishness, Lindsay kept her eyes locked on the numbers at the top of the doors as the red light counted down to "L."

"So, you and Danny are really over," Flack muttered after a tense pause.

He sounded as though he hadn't believed it before, and Lindsay found herself irrationally annoyed. "Yep," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

Danny's elevator was painfully slow, and Lindsay kept her eyes locked on the numbers at the top of the door as they counted down to "L."

"That's too bad." He paused then deliberately turned to look at her. "I'm sorry if he hurt you, Linds. You deserve better."

Lindsay straightened from her slouch as they hit the bottom floor. Smiling fondly at him, she stepped forward as the doors opened in front of them. "I'm sorry, too," she said, keeping her voice light. "About before."

"For what?" Flack said, confused.

"For putting you in that position upstairs. I should've given him the box myself," she said, making her voice sound grudging over the smile she kept plastered on her face.

Always willing to play along, Flack shook his finger at her, opening the front door with his other hand. "That's right. You should have. I'm not going to forget this anytime soon, Monroe."

"Oooh, I'm quaking in my boots," she said on a laugh that felt oddly real for their little game of pretend.

Flack stepped up to the pizza guy and tossed her a grin as she started down the cement steps. "Get home safe, Linds."

"That's why I carry a gun," she quipped without looking back at him.

He snorted and probably would have responded but she heard the pizza guy start in on how long he'd been waiting. "All right, all right," Flack grumbled. "Jesus. You'd think you were deliverin' pizzas in Alaska. It's seventy degrees out here."

_**June 15th**_

Lindsay watched Danny chat up the waitress and silently counted the number of times the woman managed to "accidentally" touch him during the conversation. Feeling oddly detached from the situation, she found herself fascinated by the pain that radiated out from her chest with each heartbeat. Sometimes it seemed like her entire body throbbed with the aching grief.

"Couldn't we just leave?" Adam suggested quietly to Jen. In her peripheral vision, Lindsay saw Jen shake her head at him. "Why are we even here?" he hissed. "You knew he'd be here tonight."

"So did she," Jen whispered back. "She was the one who wanted to come."

"Guys, I'm sitting right here," she said, ripping her eyes from Danny's smile. "I can hear every word you're saying."

Adam sighed. "Linds, let's go back to Jen's place. We can order take-out, watch a movie—"

Biting her lip, she picked up her drink. "I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving," she muttered.

Jen winced, but Adam just shook his head sadly. "Lindsay, believe me when I say it would give him anything but satisfaction."

Her eyes jerked to his and saw the gravity there even as guilt flickered over his face. "Adam, what are you—"

"Hey, guys." All three of them looked up to find Flack sliding into the booth next to Lindsay. "Mind if I sit?"

Jen smirked at him. "Would it matter?"

"Not really," he told her breezily. "How ya doin'?"

Lindsay raised an eyebrow at him. She could no longer see Danny around Flack's large frame, and she briefly considered being annoyed by this blatant interference, but she couldn't summon the heat. Instead, she just felt relieved.

"I'm all right. You?" she asked, wondering if he was there by Danny's behest or his own inclination.

"Good. Good," he said, with a wide smile. Then he tipped his head towards the pool table in a small private room off the main floor. "You up for it?"

His own inclination. Lindsay relaxed and smirked back at him. "You feel like losing?"

"Shorty here thinks she got game," Flack said, shooting incredulous looks at Jen and Adam. "You guys wanna come watch me beat her?"

Jen looked at Lindsay assessingly. "Nah, we were heading back to my place. You two have fun."

Adam blinked at his girlfriend before nodding in agreement and standing. "Yeah, it's getting late." Flack frowned, glancing at his watch, and Lindsay bit back a smile. "Take care, guys."

Jen pulled on her coat and leaned down to brush a kiss against Lindsay's cheek. "Call me tomorrow."

"Get home safe," Lindsay told them, squeezing Jen's hand. Then Adam clapped Flack on the back and they were gone, pushing their way through the crowded bar.

"Was it something I said?" Flack asked, glancing first at her then at their retreating backs.

Lindsay turned eyes full of mirth on him. "I've just been passed off."

Standing, he offered a hand to help her out of the booth. His face said he'd missed the joke. "What?"

"They were only staying because I was," Lindsay explained. She paused to let him lead her through the crowded bar into the quieter back room. "I guess they figure I'm safe with you. So naïve."

As she'd intended, Flack laughed. "Why exactly do you need a keeper?"

Lindsay's smile disappeared. "We playing pool or talking?"

Flack tipped his head to the side, studying her face. "Both."

Lindsay shot him a glittering smile. "Sorry, hoss, gotta pick one."

"Hoss?" Shedding his suit jacket, Flack started rolling his sleeves while Lindsay began racking the balls.

She shrugged and lifted the triangle away. "Country girl."

Relief coursed through her as Flack smiled easily and accepted her evasion. "Eight ball?" he asked, picking a cue from the wall rack.

"That's my game," she quipped.

It was a lame joke, but Flack grinned at her and offered a second cue. "Isn't it most people's game?"

"You know, I like you. And then you open your mouth," she said with a mock glare.

Flack laughed again and stepped away from the table. "You breakin'?"

Smirking, Lindsay idly chalked her cue. "I think I can manage."

"All right, Snarky. Get your game on."

"Snarky?" she repeated, sending him a half smile as she bent low over the table.

Flack settled himself against the wall as her shot knocked two solids into pockets. "Nice shot," he said, concentrating more on his beer than on her.

Hiding a smile, Lindsay bent again to line up her shot. "Thanks."

"Heard about your case today. Sounded…interestin'."

Lindsay choked on a laugh and had to pause before following through on her stroke. "Only you would find that interesting."

"A guy dressed like a large raccoon? I think anyone would find that interestin'."

"You've never heard of Furry Conventions, Flack?"

Lindsay glanced at him and almost winced at the look of discomfort on his face. Apparently, she'd gone too far with that particular reference. Maybe she was a little too comfortable around him considering they didn't spend much time together outside of work. Sure they joked around, but Danny had always been there to mediate and now…

Suddenly depressed again, Lindsay focused on the table and her play options. If she sank the nine, she'd be in the clear as long as she didn't hit the stripe pressed to the wall next to it. If she missed this ball it would give Flack his only chance to enter the game, and that might be the polite thing to do considering she'd just made him blush about three shades of red. But Lindsay needed something to dwell on aside from Danny seducing a cocktail waitress in the next room, and standing around watching Flack clear the table wasn't going to cut it, so Flack was shit outta luck this round.

Bending, she put a tad too much force into the strike, but the nine went in, leaving the stripe untouched against the wall. She cleared the table mindlessly, not even noticing Flack's agape stare until she sank the eight and stepped back.

His glass hung halfway between the table and his mouth. "Huh. Eight ball really is your game."

Lindsay looked back at the table and all his striped balls. "Well, anything on a pool table is my game, really. Not much to do in a small town. I played a lot."

"Right then. How are ya at poker?" he asked, his gaze narrowed.

She shrugged. "I could clean you out."

Apparently, she'd struck a nerve. The pint came down to the table with a loud smack. "Oh, it's on, Monroe."

Raising an eyebrow, she took in his determined expression. "Til the break of dawn, perhaps?"

Ignoring that bit of nonsense, Flack slid off the stool and came to stand on the other side of the pool table facing her down. "No joke. Tomorrow night. I'll go easy on ya. Fifty dollar buy in."

"Fifty, huh?" Lindsay smirked and eyed him. "Who else is playing?"

Flack started to speak then snapped his mouth shut and looked away. After a moment, she managed to understand and felt her cheeks flush slightly. Clearing her throat, Lindsay shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

Flack sighed. "No, Linds. I'm sorry. I didn't think about it."

"Really, Flack. It's not a problem." They both stood there uncomfortably for a moment, unsure where to go from there. Then Lindsay moved to hang her cue. "Thanks for the game, but I should get home."

"Linds."

Glancing at him, she found Flack staring helplessly at her. The worry on his face had her shaking her head and stepping back towards him. "Flack, it's a break up. I'll be fine. I just need to go home, heat up some pizza, put on an old movie and I'll be right as rain tomorrow."

Flack's forehead furrowed. "Why do you need to heat it up?"

Rolling her eyes, Lindsay patted his arm and turned to walk away. "Good night, Flack. Thanks again for the game."

"Any time. But next time," he called after her. "I get to break!"

Lifting her hand, she wiggled her fingers in a wave without looking back. She tried not to scan the bar as she left, but it was a foolish endeavor since she'd known Danny was no longer there without even looking. Strangely, the waitress was still making rounds, and Lindsay frowned. Had Danny passed on a sure thing?

Both the train of thought and the stupid hope that spread through her were too unhealthy to tolerate. Quickly stepping into the cool night, she shoved hard at thoughts of Danny and reminded herself that Cary Grant waited for her on the other end of a cab ride. Despite the solid effort at distracting herself, she couldn't help but think that Danny would've watched _Bringing Up Baby_ with her for the three hundredth time without complaint.

And she really missed that.

_**June 20**_

Lindsay took a deep breath, trying to force her eyes to remain focused. She was too tired, though, and the photos in front of her began to blur again. Sighing, she dropped the photo in her hand and rotated her head to ease the crick in her neck.

Raising a hand, she kneaded at the stiffness in her shoulders, wondering how long she'd been bent over the table. One hour? Two? Hell, it could've been a whole day and she wouldn't have noticed.

As her fingers rubbed at the flesh of her shoulder, her eyes fluttered open. The sight of Danny across the hallway in the other lab wouldn't have been all that shocking, except for the fact that he was staring at her. Intently.

As their eyes locked, she saw him tense but he didn't look away like he usually did. They both froze, each just staring at the other. Noticing his chest rise and fall, she was suddenly awash with memories. His breath pouring into her ear as he moved over her. His lips trailing over her neck. The feel of his skin under her fingertips.

The faintly remembered sensations made her chest clench and, blinking, she looked back down at the lab table. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed he would be gone when she looked up again.

"Lindsay."

Startled, her head jerked up to find her boss standing across the table from her. She could feel that her face was still crumpled, and she almost winced when Mac's eyes gentled. "What's up?" she asked, trying to smile.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Did you need something?"

"Just checking in," Mac said, willing to let it go. "How's it coming?"

Relieved to fall back into the case, Lindsay nodded at the photos spread in front of her. "I'm just trying to figure out how all these pieces fit together."

He smirked at her. "Any luck?"

Lindsay grinned back a bit wearily. "Not yet."

Nodding, Mac leaned his hands against the table and let his eyes rove over the photos. "Well, Danny just closed the Hodgins case. So if you need any help, let him know. He'll be around finishing up some paperwork."

It wasn't until Mac looked up, concerned, that she realized she was gaping. "Oh. Okay. Great. Thanks."

Mac frowned, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and shook his head instead. "Do me a favor. Eat something. You're weird when you don't eat."

Shocked, Lindsay sputtered for a moment before the laughter actually came out of her mouth. "Did you really just use the word 'weird'?"

Mac gave her a pointed look. "Eat," he said, snapping off his gloves as he exited the lab.

"Aye, aye, captain," she murmured, glancing down as she began to straighten the photographs.

Maybe it was because she hadn't been looking for it, but this time it jumped out at her. Grabbing the magnifying glass, Lindsay held it over the photo, trying not to let herself hope she'd finally found the clue she was looking for.

It was smudged, barely recognizable, but it was there, right where she remembered. An arm print in the mess of food on the floor with a strange void in the pattern. She'd only been able to discern it was an arm from the intricate design at one end made by the delicate wrist bones. It appeared to be that someone had wiped the handprint away hurriedly, too frantic to take the time to erase the whole arm.

When she'd found it during the initial processing, it had been useless. Arms didn't make unique prints like hands, feet, and ears. However, since then, she'd interviewed suspects. And this meaningless void suddenly had profound implications.

Hurriedly putting the evidence away, Lindsay yanked off her gloves and struggled out of her labcoat. She was already pushing out the door as she pulled out her phone and hit speed dial.

"Flack."

"Someone's grumpy," Lindsay teased. She knew there was too much glee in her voice, but she just couldn't help it.

"You calling to give me a hard time or do you actually need something?"

"Actually, I'm giving you a very early Christmas present. Get your car, we're going for a ride."

Lindsay heard a rustling noise. "And where exactly are we going?"

"To see Amy Slater."

"Grab your kit, Messer, we got real work to do."

Lindsay froze, the phone still pressed to her ear. "What the hell do you call this?" she heard Danny ask on the other end.

Oh, no. "Uh, Flack?"

"Danny's comin' along for the ride. We might need backup with this one."

Lindsay narrowed her eyes, trying to see a way out of this mess. "Amy Slater is five foot two."

"Yeah, and so are you. Get your ass in gear, Messer," Flack barked.

Panic began to swirl through Lindsay's stomach, mingling with the dread that had resided there for the last month. Not happening. This was so not happening.

"We'll meet you at the elevators, Linds," Flack said, right before the phone clicked in her ear.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Stalking towards the elevators, Lindsay gave herself a silent pep talk. Dealing with Danny at work was not a big deal. They'd shared labs, been on cases together. Granted, only a couple in the past month, but it was doable. She knew it was doable. She'd _done_ it for heaven's sake, so she needed to calm the hell down.

"So whatcha got?" Danny asked, snatching the file out of Flack's hand as they came up next to her.

"Recently divorced, middle-aged white male, DOA," Lindsay answered automatically, pushing frantically at the down button. "Sid declared him dead of exsanguination from a single stab wound to the back six hours before he was discovered."

"Which means he was stabbed one hour after a very formal dinner party his ex-wife was hosting. In his apartment," Flack stressed.

"What's up with that?" Danny muttered, still scanning the file. "So we're goin' to see Miss Manners, huh?"

Lindsay shook her head, pressing the button again. "No, we're going to see the first ex-wife."

"First?" Danny repeated, glancing between the two of them.

"He had three," Flack told him, trying to hide his smirk. "And all of them wanted him dead."

"Must've been some guy," Danny muttered.

Lindsay opened her mouth to crack a joke about his own sterling personality then snapped her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth. She and Danny weren't friends anymore. She couldn't speak to him like that.

Noticing both men staring at her, she shot them a smile. "What?"

"You all right?" Danny asked in a low voice.

"Fine," she assured him. "Just anxious to get this over with."

"Really wanna get started on that paperwork, huh, Linds?" Flack asked, folding his arms and staring at her with a smirk.

"You know me and paperwork. We're like this," she told him, crossing her fingers and holding them up.

"You know, since you brought it up—" he began, looking too eager.

"No, Flack."

"No, what?" he asked defensively, just as the doors started to slide open.

"I'm not doing your paperwork for you."

Flack scoffed, holding the doors while they piled inside. "Like I was gonna ask. Right Danno?"

"So you're basing all this off an arm print in a mess of food?" Danny asked, frowning as he tried to absorb an entire file in a few minutes.

Stepping closer to him and trying to ignore how good he smelled, Lindsay pointed out the strange void in the print. "See this? It's an exact negative of a scar on Amy Slater's arm. Nasty looking. Said she got it rock climbing with Mr. Slater."

"New hubby's a sports guy, eh?"

"No, old hubby. She never dropped our vic's name," Lindsay said, smiling as Danny put all the pieces together and reached her conclusion.

"Whoa. Talk about holdin' on to the past."

Flack shrugged. "Maybe she finally got tired of it. Tried to cut him out of her life."

"That's bad even for you, Flack," Lindsay muttered.

She was startled when Danny laughed at the comment. The sound made her stomach drop and flutter simultaneously, a feeling she was sure no other man would be able to trigger. But it was comforting in a way. Maybe she and Danny could move beyond the painful phase they were in and somehow get back the friendship they once had. In an effort to cover her hope at the thought, Lindsay smiled shyly and turned away.

xxxxx

"I miss him."

Jen's brow furrowed in sympathy as she stirred sugar into her coffee. "I know you do, sweetie."

"No," Lindsay said, shaking her head. "I don't mean Boyfriend Danny. Well, I _do_ mean Boyfriend Danny because I miss him, too. But I'm talking about the other Danny."

"What other Danny?" Jen asked, glancing at her as she threw her stirrer in the nearby trashcan.

"The Danny I knew before we started dating." Lindsay paused to take a sip of her own coffee. "Friend Danny."

Jen spent a moment considering that as she fastened the lid onto her to-go cup before nodding. "Okay. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Lindsay said, fiddling with the cardboard carrier. "I just think that maybe I could have Friend Danny back."

Jen valiantly hid her grimace. "Linds, you know you can't. Not yet."

Biting her lip, Lindsay waited as they snagged a table near the window before speaking again. "If I just make an effort—"

Jen leaned forward with an earnest expression. "Neither of you is ready for that. You've only been broken up for a month. You'd just end up hurting even more."

"It couldn't be any harder than it is already," Lindsay muttered, looking out the window at the slew of New Yorkers passing by.

"I know it's not easy seeing him every day, having to work with him, but you have to give yourself some time. Trying to be friends right now, when you're already hurting so much…" Jen trailed off, shaking her head.

Lindsay sighed quietly. "Yeah. You're right. I know you're right," she said with more conviction.

"Of course I am," Jen agreed, forcing her voice to be light and teasing.

She sounded uncertain, though, and they sat in silence for several minutes before they wandered back out to the street without saying another word.

_**June 25**_

Lindsay stared at the picture on the wall, her hand still frozen on the light switch. The laughing faces seemed to taunt her. _You're forgetting, Lindsay. You're forgetting us._

She wanted to argue, but she couldn't; the mocking voice in her head was right. Until that moment, she'd forgotten that two days' time would mark eleven years. For the first time since that day, her mental calendar hadn't been subconsciously ticking down the minutes, keeping her constantly aware of how near or far the anniversary was. This year, it had snuck up on her, leaping out at her from the pictures on her wall.

She was horrible.

For her, the ordeal was over. Katums was in jail, and she was free to live her life as she chose. But for her friends…She should remember, if only for their sakes'. She should honor them and the place they still held in her life. Instead she'd forgotten.

Horrible, horrible, horrible.

Sliding down the wall, Lindsay stared at the smiling girls as the truth of herself swept through her.

_**June 27**_

Her heart was beating too hard, her breath coming in gasps, her nerves were too close to the surface. And the knock on the door surprised her so much she nearly leapt out of her skin. Letting out a little sob of air, she pressed a hand to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to smooth out her expression.

She wasn't expecting anyone, hadn't even mentioned to Jen what time she'd be home. And she really didn't want to open that door. Maybe if she ignored them the person on the other side would just go away.

But the knock came again. And again a few minutes later.

Giving up on hiding, Lindsay stood and shuffled towards the door, trying to wipe away the sick expression she could feel on her face. She leaned against the door for a minute, trying to gather herself before looking out the peephole.

Shock poured through her as she recognized the face. "Lindsay? Come on, open up. I can see your shadow," Connor told her.

Undoing the locks, she gently pulled the door open and stared at him. "What—Connor, what're you doing here?"

He let out a breath, his whole face softening as he took in her ragged appearance. "It's June twenty-seventh."

Biting her lip, Lindsay stepped back into the apartment, leaving him just enough room to squeeze by.

xxxxx

He'd been standing across the street for an hour, trying to make the decision to go buzz her apartment. Danny knew she needed him—needed someone anyway—but he couldn't stand the thought of hurting her more by being there for one night and leaving the next morning. She didn't need that kind of confusion.

But, considering the shape she'd been in the year before, Danny knew he couldn't leave her alone. She didn't like to talk about what happened all those years ago, and he knew that he was the only one she'd opened up to about it. So no one else would be showing up. At least, that's what he believed until he saw Connor jog up the steps to her building.

He should have been relieved. Danny no longer had to go in there, hold her, love her through this night. It really should have felt like a reprieve. Because it would have been just as hard for him to leave in the morning as it would have been for her to see him go. Honestly, he wasn't even sure he would've been able to force himself to let her go a second time.

Even as he told himself to walk away, Danny watched through her lit window as Lindsay came to stand near the sill, clutching the edges of a voluminous cardigan together in front of her chest. She looked so broken Danny felt a physical ache start to radiate out from somewhere near his stomach. She'd seemed so small, so child-like in the huge sweater, especially once Connor came to stand next to her.

He didn't touch her or look at her as they stood there, just spoke as they both stared out at the city lights. And slowly, so slowly Danny didn't notice at first across the distance, Lindsay's fingers unclenched from around the sweater. And when Connor finally reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, Lindsay turned to bury her face against his chest.

After that, Danny couldn't watch. Turning, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and moved down the street back towards the subway stop that had brought him there.

xxxxx

"I know, Lindsay," Connor murmured as he stroked her hair. "I know."

He didn't, not really, but the words were soothing anyway and her sobs gradually subsided. She let him hold her a while longer, drawing strength from his powerful frame, then pushed gently away.

He let her go without comment, and merely let his arms drop back to his sides, his face as calm as ever. Swallowing hard against the residual lump in her throat, Lindsay wrapped the edges of her sweater tightly around her stomach.

"Do you want some tea or something?"

She wasn't sure if she'd remembered to offer the usual pleasantries before collapsing against his chest. She hoped he said yes. She desperately needed to regain her composure, and leaving the room for even the few minutes it took to make tea was a welcome thought.

"I have a better idea," he said, turning to where he'd discarded his duffel bag. Crouching, he unzipped it and began to dig through it. "I thought you might be in need of a little liquid anesthetic."

"Liquid anesthetic?" she repeated, her mind too fuzzy to make any sort of guess.

Connor straightened and held out the bottle of tequila. "Best medicine on earth."

Surprised into laughter, Lindsay ignored the voice telling her this was the wrong thing to do and nodded. "I'll get the shot glasses."

Her life sucked. Just in a general sense. So, for once, Lindsay wasn't going to listen to that stupid little voice that always seemed to know the _right thing_ _to do_ in any given situation.

xxxxx

Anonymous Reviews:

Solipsis: I'm flattered you came out of hiding for me! Thanks for the review.  Don't worry, this story will definitely be finished. I will not be going on hiatus for this one. My life just got a little hectic over the last few months, so updates might be a little slow in coming. But come they shall! Hopefully I'll have a new chapter up in the next couple of weeks.

Seaandsun: The story is nowhere near completed. Fear not, I would never leave a story with such a dissatisfactory ending. :p The updates might be slow, but this story will be completed. I'm determined.

Amerie: Thanks for reviewing! No, I'm not going on hiatus. The story still has about a year left in the time-frame presented in the prologue, so I need to cover that. And I have most of it planned already so I feel committed to fleshing out the skeleton.

Meghan: Thanks for the review! Though I am Queen of Angst, deep down I hide a fluff-bunny-fan-girl's heart. You can interpret that in connection with the ending of this story as you choose.


	10. July 2008

A.N. Would you look at this? I updated within my proposed timeframe!! It's like a Christmas miracle.

_**July 1**_

Lindsay smacked her hand over the blaring alarm and winced as it clattered to the floor. After a moment of lying perfectly still to give her pounding head a chance to calm down, she tentatively pushed herself up and maneuvered her body so she could lean her back against the headboard. Putting a hand to her head, Lindsay swallowed thickly, trying to lull her muscles into relaxing. She wasn't entirely sure it was possible to be hung over four days after the fact, but her body was doing its best to convince her.

Giving herself a nice internal pep talk, Lindsay finally managed to force her lids open and immediately caught her breath. Connor was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her.

"Morning," he murmured, the bedroom small enough that she could hear his low voice across the space between them.

Swallowing a sigh, Lindsay let her eyes fall shut again. "Morning." She paused to let the vibration from those words ease before asking, "Have you been up long?"

"Long enough to make breakfast. Get up and I might even give you some."

"Okay. This is gonna take a few minutes," she warned him tiredly.

His chuckle was low, either out of deference to the hang over she couldn't shake or because he didn't want her to hear it. Regardless, she opened one eye and glared. "Shut up."

Grinning, he shook his head and straightened, uncrossing his arms and jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be in the kitchen whenever you're ready."

Closing her eye against the sight of him sauntering down her hall, Lindsay moaned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She ran a hand through her hair, pulling a face as it tugged slightly at her scalp.

Coffee. She needed coffee.

Standing, she grabbed her robe off the bedpost and shrugged it on, tying the belt around her waist as she headed down the hall towards the front of her apartment. "Whoa," she said, spotting the table.

Connor looked up from his place at the counter and smiled wryly. "You haven't really eaten the last couple of days, and I thought it might be time to take matters into my own hands. So I—"

"Slaughtered a pig?" Lindsay supplied, pulling out a chair.

Coming around the counter, Connor set a mug of coffee in front of her and slid into the chair across from hers. "Well, no. I heard you don't do that in the city," Connor said solemnly.

"Bacon, sausage, bagels, cream cheese, strawberries—"

"Lettuce and tomato, if you feel like a sandwich," Connor pointed out, gesturing with his mug.

Her stomach rolled. "It looks delicious."

Bypassing the food for the moment, Lindsay picked up her own mug and took a healthy swig. The warm bitterness eased down her throat, and she could've sworn she felt her muscles immediately begin loosening.

"Mmm," she hummed, her eyes fluttering shut. "I forgot you make such good coffee."

She felt shy inadvertently referencing that period of their lives, but Connor smiled easily and shoved the plates closer to her. "Eat. You haven't eaten in days."

Sliding her napkin onto her plate, she gave him a wry look. "That's because I've felt ill from all that tequila you poured down my throat."

"Poured down your throat?" he repeated skeptically. Snatching up the bowl of strawberries, he dumped a few on his plate. "That's funny. I have this vague recollection of a tiny brunette saying 'Just one more, Connor' and then it's all a blur."

"First of all, my voice isn't that high." Setting down her mug, she reached for a bagel. "Second of all, you brought the bottle. And the limes," she added, looking off to the side as another piece of the night came back to her. "Points for extra preparation."

She wasn't sure why they were joking about it. It had been a horrible night. She'd spent most of it in silence, and when she had spoken she'd babbled about how she was a horrible person for forgetting to remember. Connor had spent most of the night trying to get her to stop, saying things like "They would've wanted you to move on, Lindsay" and "You loved them. They knew that."

He knew the words wouldn't help just as clearly as she had, but he'd said them anyway, holding her when she let him. Mostly she wouldn't let him touch her, sitting at the opposite end of the couch drinking shot after shot.

In fact, they hadn't spoken much at all over the last few days. They'd fallen into an unconventional household routine. While she was busy working, he disappeared only to return late at night just as she was feeling ready for bed. She made up the couch for him, which he slept on without complaint despite it being a good two feet too short for his six and a half foot frame. And they slept.

She never asked why he was there, and he never volunteered the information. Rather it seemed they were trying to ignore the topic altogether. Oddly, it hadn't bothered her until the moment she spotted him in her bedroom that morning.

Eyeing him from across the table, she took in the way the light played across his face and wondered why she couldn't have fallen in love with him. It should have been so easy. He was beautiful—in a fairy-tale prince sort of way—kind, intelligent, successful, caring, and too many other adjectives to list.

Plus, he loved her. Against all odds, against her own advice, he still loved her enough to come find her on the worst day of the year.

"Can I help you?" he murmured, not glancing up as he carefully sawed a bagel in half.

She kept her eyes on him as she asked, despite the sudden urge to be anywhere but sitting in that room. "Con, why are you here?"

His knife stilled but after a moment's hesitation he finished cutting the bagel and set the knife down before looking up at her. "Thought you might need a friend."

"So you flew across the country?" Lindsay asked gently, tipping her head to the side as she studied him.

"No. I've been upstate at the ranch for a couple of months now."

Lindsay blinked. "That's right. You told me that. I'm sorry, I forgot."

An easy smile crossed his face as he tossed his inky hair out of his eyes. "It's all right, darlin'. You've been busy."

"Very true," she murmured, dropping her eyes to stare down into her coffee. "Danny and I broke up."

She heard a short breath expel from his lungs, quietly but still audibly. "Yeah, I heard. I'm sorry."

She laughed almost silently as she looked up at him again. "How can you be sorry?"

"He seems like a good man," Connor said, deliberately sidestepping her question. "And you loved him."

"No," she said, shaking her head.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Lindsay, I know you loved him. It was plain as day."

"No," she repeated. "That's not what I…How can you do this?" Suddenly, inexplicably, she was mad at him. "How can you sit there and tell me you're sorry?"

Connor didn't seem to know what to say, half of his bagel hovering between the plate and his mouth. Lindsay shook her head, her eyes staring straight at him, but no longer seeing him.

"If it was Danny, if he'd fallen in love with someone else, I wouldn't be able to say I was sorry she dumped him," she muttered, anger filling every pore of her being. It was nice. It didn't leave any room for the sadness.

Setting the bagel down, Connor sighed. "Yeah, you would."

"No, I—"

"Yes, Lindsay, you would. Because being in love with someone means wanting them to be happy, even if seeing them happy and knowing someone else can give them what you never could hurts like hell."

Deflating a bit, Lindsay dropped her eyes. She hated that she'd done this to him. "Sorry."

"No," Connor said, obviously exasperated. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Jesus, Mouse."

Biting her lip, she glanced up to find him running a hand through his hair. "Can we just eat breakfast?" he asked, gesturing to his bagel.

"Okay," she agreed, nodding.

"Thank you," he said, letting out a harsh breath.

Tilting her head to the side, Lindsay considered Connor. He wasn't what she need, though she wished to God he was. It would've made her life so much simpler. Danny had made her feel so safe and suddenly she was all alone again, fighting a losing battle against her own mind.

Struggling to shove thoughts of Danny aside, Lindsay shifted in her chair. "So, any new girlfriends?"

"You know what?" Connor said quickly, his cheeks turning slightly red. "Maybe we should eat in silence."

Neither subject came up again before he left the next morning.

_**July 3**_

Danny sat up in bed, hot sweat trickling down his back right along his spine. Goosebumps rose as the cool night air hit his bare, sweat-soaked skin, but he didn't notice. His whole body felt tense, his fingers clenching around the sheets so tightly his knuckles were colorless even in the darkness of his room. The sound of his panting was cut only with the honking of late night traffic.

He stared blindly forward, trying desperately to erase the images from his mind. Forcing his concentration down to his hands, he slowly unclenched his fists one finger at a time until his palms flattened onto the blankets. Breathing deeply, he tried to think of something, anything else, but it didn't work any better than it had the last time.

Whether he counted sheep or focused on flexing each individual muscle, the result was always the same. Her face danced just in front of his mind's eye, sometimes laughing, happy, the way he used to always see her. Sometimes beautiful and serene, the way, in the night, he used to be able to turn over and find her next to him, face easy in sleep.

In the daylight, the situation's consequences were clear, and it was easy to pretend he was okay, that seeing her on a daily basis and not being able to touch her wasn't a brand of torture. But at night his dreams tormented him, his mind taunting him with how close she always was.

In those dreams, he'd reach for her desperately before she came near enough to actually touch, and she'd just laugh, stepping into his arms as if she belonged there. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, so trustingly. And everything was okay. That knot in his stomach finally loosened and he could breathe again.

Until he woke up. And he always woke up.

Clapping his hands over his face, he scrubbed furiously, like he could somehow rub out her image. He was painfully aroused, as always, and the scent of her hair lingered in his memory, teasing his senses. Wincing, he shifted to try and ease the discomfort, his hands still clasped to his face.

He couldn't be with her. That was clear. Or at least it would be when dawn broke, and he could once again see the wreckage of his past. Dropping his hands from his face, he collapsed back against the pillows, cooling now from his sweat. It felt disgusting, but he didn't care.

She wasn't there with him, and it didn't really matter how he felt. She was safe, so he'd somehow refrain from going clinically insane.

_**July 4**_

Danny spotted Flack across the room and raised his beer in greeting. The blonde he was talking to—Kira…maybe—glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers at Flack. The other detective jerked his head in acknowledgement to both of them and waited until the blonde turned back to Danny before sending his best friend a questioning look.

Ignoring him, Danny turned back to the woman whose name he couldn't remember. "So how do you know Don?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Flack had commandeered a redhead early on in the night, and Danny had left him to do his thing. There were a number of perfect looking women in the room, and Danny had raked his eyes over each of them, but couldn't really summon up any interest. He'd only started in with this one because she'd spoken to him first. And she was drinking a soda. No one did that at Flack's parties. It was intriguing.

Well, almost.

"We work together," Danny told her, watching to see how long she took to make logical connections.

"So you're a cop, too," she said calmly. Apparently, a few of her brain cells actually worked, always a plus at one of Flack's parties.

"Sorta. I'm in the crime scene division."

Blondie raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Is it anything like tv?"

"No, not really," he told her, grinning lazily.

Smiling back, Blondie nodded. "I didn't think it would be."

There was an awkward pause as Danny tried to decide whether or not to continue the conversation. Blondie at least knew how to talk about something aside from herself, but Danny had no real interest in getting to know another human being. He'd only come to keep up appearances. As the newly single bachelor, he needed to at least look like he was returning to his old ways.

"How'd you like the fireworks?" she asked, and the gleam in her eye told Danny she found their shared discomfort amusing.

Interest genuinely piqued, Danny raised an eyebrow. "Oh, they were amazing."

"Yeah, best I've ever seen," she deadpanned.

"Well, I don't know about best," he said seriously. "But high up there on the list of Independence Day Hits."

She widened her eyes in feigned amazement. "Your July fourth horizon is wider than I could imagine."

Laughing outright, Danny shook his head. "Where the hell did Flack find you?"

"Excuse me?" Blondie asked, laughing with him though she looked a little confused.

Shaking his head, Danny tried to look apologetic. "You're not exactly—Nevermind."

Suspicion made her eyes narrow slightly, but she didn't seem bothered by the conversation. "He's actually more my roommate's friend. She's known him for years, I guess."

"Huh," he said, not sure where to go with that one. "You called him Don, so I just assumed you were…close," he said, unable to find a better word.

Then, realizing how it might sound, Danny opened his mouth to apologize, but Blondie just shrugged. "When we met, he told me to call him Don. I didn't really think anything of it."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "People mostly call him Flack. I didn't mean to imply—"

"Don't worry about it. No harm done." Her eyes caught on something over his shoulder. "Crap."

Glancing back, Danny saw the front door closing. "What's wrong?"

Blondie blew out a breath in frustration. "My flaky roommate just left. She's kind of my ride," she explained.

Frowning, Danny looked down at his watch. It was nearly two am. "I can give you ride." To her credit, Blondie hesitated, and Danny smiled disarmingly. "You wanna see my badge?"

She flushed and laughed self-depricatingly. "Sorry. I just…don't usually leave parties with guys I've just met."

"And that's an excellent policy," Danny said, still grinning. "But I swear it's just a ride. I'll drop you at the door, watch you go in and drive off again. Nothin' else."

"All right," Blondie told him, smiling shyly. "Thank you."

"No problem," he told her, shrugging.

Beer bottle now empty, Danny glanced around for a bin. The room was crowded, though, and he couldn't see five feet in front of him. Setting his beer bottle down—let Flack pick the place up—Danny turned to go.

"Lemme just go find Flack." She nodded and he moved to cross the room before pausing. "You got a problem with motorcycles?"

Blinking, she opened her mouth but couldn't seem to think of anything to say except, "Uh—"

"Cuz I can borrow Flack's car," Danny offered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"He wouldn't mind?" she asked, obviously surprised.

"More like he wouldn't notice," Danny told her, smirking over his shoulder at Flack. His friend was surrounded by other cops, all yelling encouragement as Flack chugged yet another beer.

"Wow. It's like college all over again." She grimaced. "Crap, now I'm having a flashback."

Danny chuckled. "Lemme steal his keys."

"No, no. The bike's fine."

When Danny looked back, Blondie was blushing again. "You sure?" he asked, suddenly wondering how old this woman was.

"Yeah. I've actually never been on a motorcycle before," she told him, her eyes turning excited.

"All right. Where's your jacket?"

"In Kimmy's car," she said ruefully.

Danny froze, his eyes locking on her face. "Kimmy's your roommate?" he asked.

Blondie's brow furrowed. "You know her?"

Swallowing a bark of laughter, Danny just shook his head, grinning. "Yeah, I know her. Hold on, I'll grab something for you to wear."

Pushing through the crowd, Danny headed to the hall closet and pulled it open. He knew Flack's sisters would have left at least one jacket there at some point. They were always popping in, invited or not. Grabbing the first smallish jacket he could find, Danny slammed the door and retraced his steps.

By the time he made it back to the blonde, he'd controlled his laughter over the memory of Kimmy's talons and was able to smile benignly as he handed the jacket over. "Here. This should do it."

"I can't take someone else's jacket," she said, looking nervous.

Danny shrugged. "It's one of his sisters'. I'll bring it back tomorrow."

Blondie blinked and began to pull the jacket on. "You two are close, huh?"

Shrugging again, Danny didn't bother answering. "Zip it up. It's gonna get cold."

She followed him from the party without further comment, sticking her hands in the pockets of the jacket. For some reason, Danny was amused by the fact that the jacket was just slightly too small for her. And pink. He was starting to think pink wouldn't exactly be her color.

"Okay," he said as they stepped outside and into the night air. He'd shown up so early, he'd managed to park his bike right out front and he strode over to grab the helmet. Offering it to her, he eyed her when she didn't immediately put it on.

"It doesn't do much good unless you wear it," he said.

"Right," she murmured, sliding the helmet over her head.

Reaching out, he automatically tightened the chinstrap for her, just as he used to with Lindsay. When he realized what he was doing, he yanked his hands away and covered his discomfort by climbing on the bike. Not seeming to notice anything amiss, she swung her leg over behind him and gingerly wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'll go slow," he promised. "Don't try and lean, just move with me. What's your address?"

She told him and he gunned the engine, smirking a little as he felt her gasp. It was difficult to keep his promise to go slowly when she was so obviously enjoying the ride. By the time they got to her apartment building in Queens, she was nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Oh my God, that was awesome," she said, stumbling off the bike and struggling with the chinstrap.

Laughing, Danny kicked the stand down and reached out to help her. "Here," he said, brushing her hands out of the way.

"God, now I want one," she told him, the smile not falling from her face as she eyed the bike.

Danny grinned at her and pulled the helmet off. "Nice hair," he said as he took in the flattened mess.

Not even blushing, the woman—though he was leaning more toward girl at this point—shoved at his shoulder. "Shut up."

"Kara?"

They both glanced towards the voice and saw Kimmy coming down the sidewalk towards them. "Hey," Blondie—Kara—called.

"You bad girl, leaving the party without me," Kimmy purred, a sly expression on her face.

Looking at Danny, Kara rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Sorry," she said easily. "Do you know—?"

Kimmy cut her off and sauntered forward. "Hey, Dan," she said in a throaty voice, running a finger down his chest. "How ya doin'?"

"I'm doin' all right, Kimmy," he said, watching her finger as it slid away again. "Yourself?"

She chuckled lowly, walking backwards until she reached the building's entrance. "Just fine. Maybe I'll see you around."

He and Kara silently watched Kimmy's swinging hips disappear up the stairs inside. "She still with Johnny?" he asked.

"Not this week," Kara said with a shrug. She seemed at a loss after that, and Danny watched with growing amusement as she struggled to find something to say. "Did you want to come up?"

Okay, _that_ he hadn't been expecting. Instantly, he felt his face shut down. "Uh, not a good idea."

Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes in speculation. "It's the hair, isn't it?"

He couldn't help it; he laughed. "Oddly enough, no, it's not the hair."

Kara (not Kira, Kara) nodded as he fiddled with the helmet. "When'd she leave?"

"What?" he asked, his head jerking up in surprise.

"Your girlfriend," she said coolly, as though stating common knowledge. "When did you break up?"

"Two months ago," he told her before he could stop himself.

He really shouldn't be telling strangers these things; who knew whom Kara would talk to later. And, yes, he was a paranoid idiot, but sometimes his paranoia it felt like it was the only thing keeping Lindsay alive.

If Kara was surprised it had been so long, she didn't look it. "You must've really loved her."

Danny forced a chuckle. "Get inside. It's late," he told her, shoving the helmet on.

"Thanks for the ride, Danny," she said, smiling at him before turning and striding toward the door.

It was strange considering they were nothing alike, but Kara reminded him a bit of Lindsay. He watched her ease the door open and slip inside without any of the flamboyancy Kimmy had displayed. Then he gunned the engine and kicked up the stand to fly off down the street.

_**July 10**_

Jen slipped her badge back into its holder on her waistband and buttoned her jacket. She wished she could just take the damn thing off given the heat rising from the street beneath her stylish black pumps, but the dress code was strict when it came to detectives, and the rookie cops had a habit of watching her a bit too closely. Of course, they could just be ogling at her breasts, but she couldn't take any chances.

Glancing at her watch, Jen watched as the last of the officers on scene trailed out of the building. Case in hand, Hawkes jogged down the steps to her. "You done canvassing?" he asked, the usual tranquil smile on his face.

Jen scoffed. "No one to canvas. The whole place was empty apparently. Or at least dead to the world when I knocked on their doors. I cannot believe the callousness of people."

Hawkes blew out a breath. "If they were around, they might be afraid to admit it. Judging by the spatter in there, it wasn't exactly an easy death. She must've been screaming her head off."

Squirming at the memory of all that blood, Jen swallowed harshly. "Even our 911 caller didn't come forward."

"It's early days for that yet," Hawkes said, glancing up as one of the techs closed the back of the department truck. "I gotta go. I'll see you back at the lab."

"Yeah. See ya," she murmured back.

Jen watched silently as Hawkes and his tech climbed in the truck and pulled away before checking in with the officers assigned to watch the scene. Once she was sure they were settled, Jen turned to stride off down the street, impatience gripping her chest like a vise.

Due to the number of officers and emergency vehicles responding to the scene, she'd had to park nearly a block away. She didn't really mind the walk, but she could feel the time ticking by as the murdered woman's killer stayed free. The very idea gave Jen the shivers.

It was a busy street, crowded with restaurants and boutiques; an odd place to find a broken down apartment building, but Jen figured they'd leave 'em squished in anywhere at this point. Housing was housing even if it did offend the high and mighty.

Dodging midday pedestrian traffic left and right, Jen happened to glance up as she passed the front window of one of the classier restaurants on the block. The sight through the glass didn't really register until she'd gone several more steps, her mind stuck on the horrific case she was confronting. But when it did, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Frowning in confusion, Jen turned around and walked back the other direction, casually glancing in through the same window. The window spanned the entire front of the restaurant, but he was on the other side of the dining room, and she could only get a glimpse. But she saw him there, past the gold cursive letters decorating Marcelliano's expensive plate glass. She walked an extra dozen or so feet past the window before she stopped again, her heart pounding, face flushed.

Reaching up, she nervously smoothed her hair back, feeling how hot her cheeks were beneath the already-warm skin of her fingers. She could feel her stomach knotting up as she stood stock-still as time seemed to slow around her. Then she spun on her heel and paused, ignoring the dirty looks other pedestrians shot her for standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the lunch rush.

The first step she took was hesitant, but, jerking her chin high and affecting the snooty look of the usual Marcelliano's crowd, she smoothed out her steps and strode directly into the restaurant. The hostess gave her a blasé, disinterested expression, but Jen merely smiled, all confidence. Though she knew her suit wasn't the usual class for a Marcelliano's patron, Jen also knew that beauty was as valuable a commodity as platinum cufflinks in this crowd.

"I'm supposed to be meeting someone here," Jen said in a low voice. She deliberately paused before adding hastily, "For a lunch meeting."

"Of course," the hostess said, a gossip-loving glint appearing in her eyes. "The name?"

Jen let her eyes slide away as though nervous then turned a blinding smile back to the other woman. "Could I just take a peek in the dining room?"

Obviously the hostess was used to scandalous meetings going on in her dining room since she simply smiled benignly and nodded. "By all means."

Carefully adopting a slightly edgy mien, Jen stepped forward to the doorway and peered towards the back of the room. There he was, not a mirage after all, laughing at some story Cynthia was relating. Jen could only see part of his face, but Adam seemed genuinely happy and caught in one of those rare truly animated, open moments he sometimes let her share. The moments when he managed to drop his guard and let her in completely and totally.

Jen couldn't watch for long since the hostess was still waiting for a response on which table held the other member of Jen's extra-marital affair. But the split second it took for Jen to recognize Adam and his companion was also the split second Cynthia chose to reach across the table and take Adam's hand.

Fire swept through Jen so quickly and so consumingly she almost didn't notice the sharp ripping in her chest as Adam turned his hand over to clasp Cynthia's back. Whirling, Jen walked past the stunned hostess and mumbled something about not seeing him before she pushed through the door to the street. Oh God. Oh God.

Walking as quickly as she could without being mistaken for one of those crazy midday joggers, Jen tried to shut her mind down. It was spinning so quickly she could hardly walk straight let alone reason her way through what she'd just witnessed. Stopping abruptly, Jen put her hands on her hips and turned to face the blank brick wall lining the sidewalk.

She had to calm down, starting with her breathing. She was practically hyperventilating in the middle of the sidewalk.

Pulling in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, Jen managed to slow her heart down enough so that her whole body didn't throb with it anymore. Once she'd accomplished that, she turned and looked up and down the street for her car. She really wasn't sure where she'd thought she was going since her car was nearly a block back in the direction she'd come.

Apparently, she'd walked right past it. Haha. Wasn't that funny?

Okay, distraction wasn't working.

Narrowing her eyes as she pulled out her keys, she asked herself what she knew for sure about what she'd just seen.

Adam had been on a date with another woman. Okay…okay, she didn't know that for sure. She'd have to talk to him about that.

Adam had lied to her about his relationship (or, more accurately, his alleged lack thereof) with Cynthia. And, again, she couldn't be sure of that until she spoke to him.

Adam had lied about his lunch plans. Okay, _that_ she knew for sure.

Yanking open the door to the department-issued vehicle, Jen stuck the keys in the ignition with a little too much force. The car turned over with a bit of a grinding sound, and Jen glared over her shoulder as she checked for oncoming traffic.

"You wanna grab a sandwich for lunch, Adam?" she muttered angrily to herself, reenacting the conversation she'd had several hours prior. "'Oh, sorry, I need to run a couple errands.' Errands, my ass!"

Screaming the last word, Jen swung out into traffic, ignoring the honks directed at her. Adam had lied. To her face. Adam had _lied_ to her. _Adam_, of all people. _Adam_ had lied.

She'd never pegged Adam as a liar. He seemed so sweet and innocent. Who would believe he'd look his girlfriend straight in the eye and lie to her about his lunch plans? While she was asking about _sandwiches_ for Christ's sake. The whole situation made her feel ridiculous. Utterly foolish.

And, really, why would he lie unless he was doing something he shouldn't be?

She couldn't stop thinking about it while she sat at her desk, trying to get a head start on her paperwork while the CSIs ran the evidence. Particularly not when Adam's number popped up on her screen an hour later—an hour after his lunch break of lies. Which was why she didn't answer.

She couldn't stop thinking about it when Hawkes called to tell her they hadn't gotten any hits in CODIS or AFIS, so she should probably just head home for the night and he'd call if they found anything.

And she couldn't stop thinking about it when Adam's number popped up _again_ on her cell while she was heading to the subway. Which was probably why she ended up getting off at his stop instead of hers and was sitting in wait for him on the highest of his front steps when he came home an hour and a half later.

He smiled when he saw her. "Hey. I've been trying to call you."

"I noticed," she said, trying to smile back.

His smile faltered and suddenly he was worried. "You okay?" he asked, still not climbing the stairs, just gazing at her from down below.

Standing, she ran her hands down her pants to smooth off the dirt. "Can we go inside?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing around as if the other pedestrians might be able to explain his girlfriend's coldness.

Jogging up the steps, he didn't try to touch her like he usually did, for which she was grateful. She would've lost all pretense of composure if she'd felt his hand on her arm, always so gentle.

The trip up to his floor in the elevator was made in silence. Jen stared straight ahead at the fake wood of the double doors, trying not to feel the heat of his gaze on the side of her face.

Adam cleared his throat as he opened the door, but still neither of them spoke and Jen was glad. Her mind was a bit fuzzy from the emotions and his nearness, and she wasn't sure yet what she wanted to say.

When he held the door open for her, she slid past him and walked to the middle of the large open living room. She took a deep breath, hearing the door close and the lock click behind her, then she squared her shoulders and turned to face him.

Adam stood just a few feet away from the door, his keys still clutched in his hand. "What's going on, Jen?" he asked, his voice wary.

"You've still got your bag on," she murmured, gesturing vaguely to the messenger bag strapped across his body.

He glanced down in confusion then looked at her in disbelief. Tearing it off, he tossed it and the keys in the general direction of the couch. "Better? Jen—"

"I saw you."

She'd always be proud that her voice didn't waver as she said it. But the effect was somewhat ruined when Adam just shook his head, clearly not understanding. "Saw me…_what_, Jen? Saw me what?"

"I saw you at lunch." Something flashed across his face and he looked away, his lips moving without words coming out. "I saw you with her."

Oddly, he didn't look guilty, just tired. "Jen, that was…That wasn't—"

"Wasn't what?" she whispered before she could stop herself.

Looking back at her, seeming a bit sad, he took a step forward. "It was just lunch."

Cold seeped out of her soul to chill her bones. "You were holding her hand."

Adam shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Jen watched the sunlight from his huge windows glint off his ring and felt her body throb with wanting him. It wasn't sexual, though she felt that, too. She just…wanted him near her.

Cynthia had such tiny hands, dainty really. How had Jen never noticed how much taller than Adam she was? She was like an Amazonian. Sex with her must be like an attack of the sixty-foot giantess. If she said it out loud, Adam would laugh and she might be able to pretend she hadn't seen what she had. But she couldn't do that.

"I don't get it, Adam. You say it's nothing, just lunch. But why didn't you tell me about it? When I asked you about getting lunch, you said you had to run some errands," she cried out, biting her lip at the weakness.

His face was so closed off it was frightening. "I thought it would upset you."

Jen stared at him, almost unable to even comprehend the words. "Upset me? You lied to me so you wouldn't upset me?"

"Jen, it didn't mean anything," he said desperately.

"If it didn't mean anything, why did you lie?" she asked, tears suddenly welling.

"Jen—" He stopped when he caught sight of the tears, looking horrified.

She was horrified, too. She never cried, but she couldn't seem to stop them, so she let them fall. "Don't," she said softly, trying to regain her breath. She felt choked and incoherent, and she made a frantic attempt at calming herself down.

Adam stared at her, eyes wide. "Jen, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

The words were so final. Nodding, Jen wiped at a tear that hung off her jaw. She must look terrible. "I'll go," she murmured, turning to the door.

"Jen, wait—" The words were so desperate they made her heart ache.

"Adam," she said, turning back to him. "Even if you're not cheating on me—"

His eyes widened. "Jen, no. I would never—"

"I can't be with someone who lies to me." Here, her breath gave out and she let out a little sob.

He jerked forward automatically, but she shrank away from him and he froze. "So that's it?" he asked in a whisper.

"I guess."

They stared at each other and for an instant Jen wished she'd never found out. Then she remembered the look on Adam's face as he'd held Cynthia's hand. So open, in a way he'd never been with Jen. Fresh tears welled and she fled for the door.

Slamming it behind her, she ran full out for the elevator. She pressed the button repeatedly, scared Adam would come out and try to argue some more, heartbroken when he didn't. As the doors slid open, she fell inside, ignoring the couple already standing against the back wall.

She wiped angrily at the tears on her face, waiting impatiently for the car to hit the foyer. The couple was silent and tense beside her, making her hyperaware of the whole ridiculous situation.

As soon as the doors opened again, Jen was out and pushing through the front door of Adam's apartment building. Stumbling down the steps in her desperation to get away, the thought that this was the last time she'd ever come here flitted through her mind.

At that, she stumbled to a stop on the sidewalk, right into the middle of pedestrian traffic. She didn't know where to go. She didn't want to go home; she knew Adam had left things there and she didn't want to face them. She didn't want to go to work.

Pulling out her cell, she dialed the familiar number and waited until Lindsay picked up. "Monroe."

"Hey."

"Hey, Jen. You're not going to believe what Hawkes, Danny and I are about to do with your evidence," Lindsay laughed. Jen squeezed her eyes shut and took a shaky breath. "Jen?"

Jen raised a hand to shield herself from passers by. When she still couldn't answer, Lindsay spoke again. "What's wrong?"

Nothing came out but a sob.

"Where are you?" Lindsay tried, sounding panicked but determined. "I'm coming to get you."

No, that would take too long. She had to get out of there now. "No," she managed. "No, I'm okay. I just…"

"Meet me back at my apartment," Lindsay told her.

"You're still at work," Jen argued, grateful for something to latch her attention on.

"I got off at three. I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Use your key."

"Okay," she said, not questioning how Lindsay thought she'd get across the city in fifteen minutes. It was Lindsay; if she said she'd do it, she'd manage.

Sure enough, less than twenty minutes later, Lindsay came stumbling through her front door, and Jen collapsed in relief as they both sank onto the sofa.

_**July 17**_

Sometimes it made her mad how badly Adam had screwed things up.

Lindsay hadn't been able to get the whole story out of Jen that night, since she'd barely been able to breathe let alone speak through the sobbing. But, eventually, she'd pieced it all together like a quilt of betrayal.

"It would have been so easy," Lindsay complained as she took the glass of wine from Connor. "All he had to do was tell Jen about the lunch. Done."

Connor sank into a cushion on the other side of the couch and raised an eyebrow. "Really? Cuz it sounds like she was already uncomfortable about this woman."

Taking a fortifying sip of wine, Lindsay shook her head and gestured with her glass. "Jen might have been uncomfortable but she would've trusted him. Cynthia might have been a point of contention for a while, but Jen would've gotten over it."

"Maybe he wasn't so sure of that," Connor offered. "Maybe he really was trying to protect her feelings."

"He was holding the woman's hand," Lindsay pointed out, her voice rising in volume.

Connor gave her a chiding look. "Lindsay, I take your hand all the time." Her eyebrows jerked up in surprise, and he suddenly seemed to realize the connotations. "Uh…"

"That's not the point," Lindsay added, hastily looking away.

Clearing his throat, Connor set his glass on the table in front of them and leaned towards her. "Look. It sounds like Cynthia might have some feel—"

He cut himself off and visibly regrouped. "Lindsay, when I take your hand, you hold mine back," he explained gently. "But it doesn't mean you have feelings for me."

Heat suffused her face. "Yeah, but that doesn't excuse—"

"I know, Mouse. You hate what happened, and you're mad at Adam for breaking your best friend's heart. I get it. But just because you want to blame him doesn't mean he did anything wrong."

Lindsay glared at him. "He _lied_ to her, Connor. Straight to her face. Or is that okay in the Average Guy's Approach to Life?"

Connor sighed and shook his head. "Yes, that was bad. You're right." Picking up his glass again, he leaned back against the arm of the couch. "What I meant to say is that it's not entirely his fault. If he'd told Jen, do you really think she would've been happy about it?"

"Happy, no. But I really doubt she would've broken up with him," Lindsay countered. "Jen hates being lied to. Hates it."

"I think everybody does," Connor said agreeably, setting his glass down again to untie his shoes. His muscles rippled beneath his black t-shirt, but Lindsay didn't notice as she tried to organize her thoughts.

"No, I mean, she really hates it. Her father and older brothers were a bit…overzealous when it came to protecting her."

Connor smirked and glanced up at her, still bent over. "That sounds familiar."

Lindsay sent him a shy grin before turning serious again. "She became sensitive about being lied to. And I think her mom's death made her father and brothers smother her even more."

"Ouch. I'm sorry about her mother," Connor said, finally straightening.

Unsure how much Jen would be comfortable with her revealing, Lindsay twirled the stem of her glass between the fingers. "She doesn't really talk about it. I only found out when I went to her father's place for Thanksgiving last year. God," she murmured, her eyes losing focus as she counted back the months. "That was almost a year ago."

One year prior, when she and Danny had been dancing around each other, she'd been convinced Danny would inevitably leave her should she pursue a relationship. It had driven Jen mad with frustration. And now here she was, heartbroken and alone. How had she lost sight of that knowledge?

Shaking off the melancholy, Lindsay sighed. Jen's heartbreak was at the forefront now. She didn't have time to be thinking about herself when her best friend was too much of a mess to remember she had to pay her rent. Lindsay had literally had to place the pen and checkbook in Jen's hands.

Lindsay leaned over and set her nearly empty glass on the coffee table. "You want some more?" Connor asked, his voice lazy.

Looking over at him, Lindsay curled her legs up underneath her. He seemed completely at home in her apartment, settled into the corner of her couch, one elbow propped on the arm. It made sense since he'd spent the last few weekends practically living on her sofa. He'd show up on Friday and leave on Sunday, and they'd never really discussed it. It's just what they did now.

And suddenly she understood. He'd been taking care of her; quietly, without having to tell her that was what he was doing. A warm feeling spread through her chest at the thought that he still cared that much, even if she couldn't love him the way he wanted her to. In fact, she felt stupid for not recognizing it before that moment.

A slow smile spread across his face as his eyes searched hers. "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing," she murmured, smiling softly at him. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Letting it go without explanation, he laughed and put his bare feet on her coffee table. Gesturing at the bookshelf, he leaned his head against the arm propped up by the sofa. "You pick, Mouse."

_**July 25**_

Lindsay stared down at the bowl of ice cream and wondered if this was what Jen had meant when she waxed poetic about Lindsay needing to wallow. It didn't really make her feel any better to chow down on take out and sundaes, though it was distracting to say the least. Particularly afterward when her stomach felt the size of the balloons in the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

For the past fifteen days, Jen would go from calm to sobbing in point-five seconds flat, so anything that distracted her for more than a few minutes was all right in Lindsay's mind. It gave both of them a well-earned respite from the emotional rollercoaster Jen seemed to be strapped onto.

"You think they're together right now?" Jen asked in a low voice, dipping her spoon down and pulling up a gooey pile.

Lindsay paused. "Adam and the professor?" She couldn't bring herself to say the woman's name since just the sound of it made Jen flinch like she was being tortured. "No."

Staring at her spoon, Jen tipped it and watched the pile fall with an audible _plop_ back into the bowl. "Why not?"

"Because he still loves you," Lindsay said, determined to be honest.

"No he doesn't," Jen muttered. "They're probably having a ton of sex now that I'm out of the picture. Her and her pneumatic chest must be keeping him up all night."

Lindsay tried to make her voice soothing. "Jen, I really doubt it."

"He had a shift today, right? How'd he look?"

Wincing, Lindsay set her bowl aside. "Jen, you don't want to talk about this."

"How'd he look?" Jen asked, her voice hard with determination.

Lindsay looked away, giving up. "He looked tired. I don't know. He didn't talk much. To be honest, he looked a little…blank," she tried for lack of a better word.

"Great. Our breakup meant absolutely nothing to him," Jen said, snatching up Lindsay's bowl and stalking to the kitchen.

Lindsay stared after her best friend and sighed silently. There wasn't anything she could say. The truth was Adam _didn't_ look very upset about the situation. He really didn't look much of anything. He just mechanically did his work, churning out result after result, clocked out precisely when his shift ended and disappeared until the next one started.

It was creepy. Like Stepford lab tech kind of creepy.

Fortunately, though, Jen didn't have to see Adam at work. She kept to the crime scenes and precinct; Adam kept to the lab. They never ran into each other, and Jen no longer came looking for Lindsay.

After taking the time to calm down and really consider what Connor had said, Lindsay began to wonder if Adam wasn't as heartbroken as Jen. She wanted to be sympathetic to both of them, but she couldn't get past the lying part. It was just such a guilty thing to do. What had he been trying to hide?

Hearing a soft noise over the sound of Jen washing the bowls, Lindsay stood and wandered into the kitchen. She came up next to Jen, frozen in front of the sink, and settled her back against the counter. Reaching over, Lindsay shut off the water before placing a hand on Jen's shaking shoulder and letting her cry.

_**July 29**_

"All right, Monroe," Flack said, rubbing his hands together. "It's you and me."

Lindsay glanced around the empty lab as if looking for a way out. "Excuse me?"

"Everyone else has disappeared and it's time for lunch."

Smirking, Lindsay finished yanking off her gloves. "Oh, I see how it is. You try everyone else, and _then_ you come find me."

"No. You're always my first choice, but you're usually so busy…" Flack trailed off, trying to tamp down on his smile.

Lindsay shot him a quelling look. "Yeah. Right. Okay, Flack, you win. Where're we going?"

His eyes lit up and he fell into step with her as she left the lab. "I was thinkin' a sandwich from Joe's."

Lindsay eyed him suspiciously as she paused outside of the locker room. "You don't like Joe's. You like the barbeque place down the street."

"I like Joe's," he said defensively. When she just stared at him, one hand resting on the locker room door, he sighed. "Are you always this suspicious?"

"Yes," she said seriously.

Pushing through the door, she was gone just long enough to pop her locker and grab her purse. Flack hadn't moved an inch and he immediately jumped into motion when she reappeared, following her to the elevator.

"We're going to the barbeque place," she told him. "I have a craving for french fries."

Pushing the down button, she frowned and her eyes slid to him. He looked immensely pleased with himself as a smug grin played with the corner of his lips. "Wait. Did you just play me?"

The smile immediately turned into a frown. "Does that really matter, Monroe?" he asked, sounding disappointed in her.

"I cannot believe you just manipulated me," she said, shaking her head. "About lunch of all things."

"Oh, so if it had been something else, you'd be okay with that?" he asked sarcastically.

Playful bickering was their MO according to the rest of the team, and Lindsay wondered if anyone else saw the parallel between them and how she and Danny had been. It didn't feel the same; there was no sexual tension between she and Flack to make the hairs on her neck stand on end when he came near her. But from the outside looking in, it might appear that way.

The thoughts kept her quiet as they walked down the street, but Flack didn't seem to notice. He blithely filled the silence with the details of his most recent case file, and, slowly, Lindsay found the darker thoughts ebbing as she listened.

"God, I love this place," he said in a low voice as he pulled open the door for her. "I been comin' here since I was a kid."

"Really?" Lindsay said as they stepped inside.

She'd noticed that most New Yorkers didn't have that sort of connection with things that had been established in childhood. The city was too large, as adults they pick and chose their favorite places. It was refreshing to hear she was wrong; it made her feel a little less alien.

"Yeah, my dad worked at our precinct," Flack told her, absently scanning the place for a waitress. "To go?"

"Sure." She waited a beat before pushing. "So you'd come hang out with him?"

Flack let out a guffaw. "When I was a kid, sure. After that, I was usually in some sorta trouble. Cops all over the city knew my dad. Any of 'em came across me, they just brought me back here."

Smirking, Lindsay hid her surprise under a teasing look. "Mister quintessential cop?"

He shot her a grin just as the waitress came up to them. "We'd like an order to go?"

"Sure. What can I get ya?" she asked, pulling out her order pad.

"Two big orders of the shredded chicken," Flack said, looking to Lindsay for confirmation and she nodded. "Cornbread, coleslaw. The works."

Without looking up from her pad, the waitress asked, "Anything to drink?"

Lindsay shook her head and Flack stuck his hands in his pockets. "Nah, we're good."

"It'll be just a few minutes," she told them, already walking away. Three years and Lindsay was finally getting used to New York's brand of polite interaction.

"You probably never got into trouble," Flack said teasingly as he leaned against the wall. "The perfect little angel."

Lindsay snorted. "The most commonly spoken phrase in my house was 'Lindsay if you don't start eating over that plate, so help me God, I'll sell you to the gypsies.'" Flack laughed and she smiled wryly. "It took me years to realize there were no gypsies in Montana."

"That hardly counts, Monroe. I'm talkin' somethin' that gets ya grounded. At the very least."

Lindsay tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider it. Then she shrugged and smiled. "No, you're right. I was perfect."

"Wonderful. Remind me never to tell you about my adolescence," he muttered, though his eyes were still laughing.

xxxxx

Anonymous Reviews:

oddie33325: Yeah, Danny and Lindsay are both pretty miserable. Stupid Danny and his stupid unlogical logic. But he's so sad it's hard to be angry with him. :( Thanks for reviewing!

shorteemoi: Oh, Connor's out. Connor's waaaaaaaaaay out, and practically ensconced on Lindsay's couch, apparently. :p Thanks for the review!

backdowngravity: A jealous Danny, you say? Hmmm…A Christmas wish for this story? I think we might be able to manage a few of those… :p Okay, see, now you're asking PLOT questions. I don't know if I can give answers to those…but hints I can swing. ;) Whether or not it's Lindsay and Connor will become clear in the next couple of chapters, I promise. Thanks for reviewing!


	11. August 2008

A.N. Sorry I missed my self-imposed deadline. Christmas ended up being pretty crazy this year. So I finally managed to finish up this chapter in the last couple of days. I hope you enjoy!

My usual huge thanks to scoob2222 for her betaing prowess. 

xxxxx

_**August 5**_

Jen heard his voice over the noise of the streets and automatically tried to locate the source in the confusion of mid-day Manhattan. Pausing on the steps to the precinct, she looked up and found him staring down at her from the top of the steps. She swallowed thickly as their eyes met and she was so shocked to see him, she didn't initially notice the flash of red hair next to his shoulder.

But she did notice the small hand that landed on his arm when he stood still for too long. Her eyes didn't have far to slide to the right since Cynthia was practically plastered against Adam's side.

It was the confusion on Cynthia's face that really did Jen in. The complete lack of recognition in Cynthia's eyes. At the realization that Adam hadn't even told Cynthia about her existence, Jen felt the vulnerability in her own gaze harden as her eyes came back to his.

He seemed frozen, but she really didn't care anymore. At least, that's what she told herself as she continued up the stairs, giving him wide birth when she passed the couple. But despite the deliberate distance, she still felt that strong pull towards him, the yearning to know him that had been tugging at her since the first moment she'd seen him.

Her steps nearly faltered as she passed him, but Adam didn't move an inch, and she kept walking.

That night, Jen stared up at the ceiling with dry, gritty eyes for hours. Morpheus had obviously decided to fight dirty. Finally, sighing, she eased herself into a sitting position and dropped her head back against the wall. The dull thunk her skull made upon impact didn't break through the craving any more than the slight pain did.

Reaching for her phone, she flipped it open and hit speed dial, forcing her fingers away from the button they itched to press. Mostly, she couldn't believe she still hadn't taken his name off her speed dial list. But a part of her just couldn't let go of that symbol of intimacy.

When Lindsay's voice finally came on the line, it was obvious Jen had interrupted some deep sleep. "'ello?"

"I want to call Adam," Jen said without preamble, frustration making her voice sharp.

"Why don't you call Adam then?" Lindsay suggested groggily.

"Linds," Jen said, annoyed.

"All right. Sorry." There was a pause across the line as Lindsay attempted to rouse herself enough to have a real conversation. Then Jen heard her take a breath. "You know he still loves you."

Pain scorched Jen's chest, and she sucked in air to cool it. "No. He doesn't."

"Yes, he does," Lindsay insisted. "He's just respecting your decision. You should see him at work—"

It was too much, the pain was too much, and so Jen cut her off. "I did."

Lindsay stopped, and Jen heard her swallow. "When?"

"Today. He was leaving as I was coming in." She knew her voice sounded dead, but it was how she felt. Or maybe being dead didn't hurt this much; maybe she just _wished_ she felt dead.

"What happened?" Lindsay whispered, obviously guessing some of it.

Jen took a shaky breath. "Nothin'. He didn't even say anything."

"Did he see you?"

"Yeah. He wasn't alone, though. So I doubt he wanted to explain me."

"Jen, maybe—"

"Lindsay, stop. He lied to me. First he hid her then he straight out lied to me."

"I know. It's just…you were so happy, and I want you to have that."

"Thanks, but apparently I'm not good enough for Adam."

Lindsay gasped, and Jen winced at the volume of it with the phone so close to her ear. "Jennifer, that is _not_ true. If he's going to lie to you, he's not good enough for you."

"I know, but—" Squeezing her lids shut, Jen cringed at her own words. "I wasn't enough for him. How can I ever be happy with him if I wasn't enough?"

"Jen, I am so sorry."

Her own pain was reflected in Lindsay's voice, and Jen took a bit of comfort in the fact that Lindsay truly did know how she felt. She would never have wished this pain on Lindsay. She hadn't understood quite how Lindsay felt after Danny left until Adam's betrayal. But knowing there was someone else out there who completely understood how she felt and seeing the strength Lindsay possessed to get through it, gave her hope one day it wouldn't hurt quite so badly.

"I still miss him," she whispered.

"I know," Lindsay murmured back. "I know you do."

"I don't get it. After all this, how can I still miss him?"

_**August 6**_

Flack jerked as the door to the lab was flung open, and Lindsay marched inside. Next to him, Adam and Danny both took a step back as she came closer, the glower on her face blistering.

"Do you have my results?" she snapped at Adam.

Swallowing nervously, Adam twisted his ring. "Uh, yeah. Hold on." His hands were quick as he lifted a folder and slid a page out from under it. "Here we go. The sticky substance was glue, specifically washable glue."

"Like you'd find in a preschool?" she asked, scanning the sheet. Her voice was calmer and Adam visibly relaxed.

"Exactly," he told her, only to stiffen as she raised angry eyes to his.

"Thanks, you traitorous son of a bitch."

They all watched in silence as she stalked from the room. Through the glass wall, they saw lab techs scrambling to get out of her way as she bulldozed through the hall. Flack blinked as the mini-hurricane turned a corner out of sight.

The three men stood frozen until Flack glanced at his friends. "Did I miss something?"

Danny's face was blank in the way Flack had become accosted to in the last few months, all his energy sapped from his body. He could hide the pain most of the time—Danny was a damn good actor—but Flack saw glimpses of it, peeking through the apathetic façade. Danny was anything but apathetic. Without Lindsay, Danny was an empty shell of the violently emotional man he'd always been.

He was, in other words, freaky to be around.

Adam cleared his throat and picked up the folder again. "Your vic died of CO poisoning, right?"

"Yeah," Flack said when Danny remained silent, staring at something neither of the other men could see.

After a minute of gazing at the page, Adam held it out to Danny. "She was yelling at me, man. Not you."

His voice was too gentle, though, and Flack closed his eyes briefly to block out the sight of Danny starting to boil. Before he could blow, Adam turned and made his way out of the lab. Flack stared after him in surprise. He hadn't even gone over the results. Adam never shirked his job like that.

Feeling as thought the world was a little unstable under foot, Flack let his eyes drift back to Danny. "What the fuck was that about, Dan?"

Danny turned angry eyes to him and made an obvious effort to calm himself. But the Italian in him was too strong to subdue. "How the hell should I know?" he countered, his fingers gripping the page tight enough to wrinkle it.

Flack turned his gaze out to the hallway, looking in vain for any sign of Adam. "You think he's comin' back?"

Exasperated, Danny slammed his way out of the lab and disappeared in the direction of Mac's office. Flack raised his hands to the empty lab and let his own anger fly. "What the hell just happened?"

After indulging his shock for a few moments, Flack ran a hand over his face. Pulling out his phone, he followed Danny's example and beat a path out of the lab. But when he passed reconstruction and saw Lindsay hunched over a table he paused, torn.

Groaning inwardly, he pulled open the door and stepped inside, tensed for battle. "So, you chased off my investigators."

"You mean Buckaroo Bonsai and his lying scum of a friend?" she muttered, the glower still in place.

Running the scanner over a piece of paper, Lindsay ignored him as he moved closer. "I'm not sure I'd call Danny 'Buckaroo' but what did Adam do?"

He tried to keep his voice casual, hoping he'd read her tone correctly. Lindsay pressed a few keys, and the image popped up on the screen behind them. Still she didn't respond.

"What is that?" he asked finally, if only to break the heated silence.

"I don't know yet," she told him, but the bite was gone from her voice. "It's a composite of several digital images I took from the crime scene. It should show me the blood pattern."

Flack squinted at the strange dots. "That's a spatter pattern?" he asked in disbelief.

She relaxed a bit more and smiled at him. "No. Someone cleaned up the crime scene, but they didn't use bleach. So we were left with the protein remnants."

"And this is where the blood was?"

"Yep." She pressed a few more keys, and the computer started creating a digital reproduction of the room.

Flack tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "It looks like your vic crawled from the next room."

"She was a fighter," Lindsay murmured, making notes in the file. Sighing, she dropped her pen. "Unfortunately, we didn't learn anything from this we didn't already know."

Flack watched her carefully as she printed out the map and shoved it in the folder. Rubbing her forehead, she offered him a wan smile. "Adam broke my best friend's heart."

Carefully neutral, not sure where his loyalties lay in this situation, he nodded. Lindsay swallowed, looking a bit uncomfortable. "And, okay, Danny's not Buckaroo Bonsai."

"He's a bit of a cowboy, though," Flack offered with a smirk. It wasn't until she grimaced that he remembered her pet name for Danny.

He was still cursing himself silently, scrambling for something to say, when she hid the wince behind a cough and snatched up the file. "I gotta go see Mac."

Unsure what he could do to repair the damage, Flack nodded again, hating that she seemed so broken. He wanted to tell her Danny missed her; that he was fairly certain Danny had a reason for casting her aside and it had nothing to do with other women. But he couldn't prove it since Danny was a tight-mouthed son of a bitch when he wanted to be, so rather than call her name, Flack watched Lindsay move away from him.

Even with her heart broken, Lindsay strode down the hall with sure, purposeful steps, and Flack couldn't help but watch in appreciation. Lindsay was a hell of a woman. He'd always known that, of course, but he'd never let himself dwell on it considering his best friend was borderline obsessed with the woman.

A cold sweat broke out on Flack's back at the direction of his thoughts. Completely at a loss as to what to do with himself after that foray into disloyal territory, Flack answered his buzzing phone with an embarrassing amount of gratitude.

"Flack," he snapped.

"Hey. We're movin'," Danny said from the other end.

"Oh, you got somethin' now?" Flack shot back, annoyed with the world.

"What crawled up your butt? Meet me at 216 Avenue A."

"Alphabet City?" Flack asked, but Danny had hung up already. Staring at his screen, he punched the end key with a little too much force. "The whole world's gone insane."

"Tell me about it."

Whirling, Flack found Stella smirking at him from the doorway. Stowing his phone back in his pocket, he smiled wryly at her. "Hey, Stel. You on the case with Lindsay?"

"No, she's solo. Hawkes and I pulled a jumper over on the East side."

"Why you on a jumper?" Flack asked, confused.

Stella's voice was dry. "Turns out he didn't jump."

"Got it." Gently clapping her on the shoulder, he moved past. "I gotta go meet Buck—Danny."

"Buck?" Stella repeated with an amused smile. "Do I wanna know?"

"Not really," he muttered on a laugh, and she grinned.

"Be safe," she called after him.

He waved without turning, wishing that Danny and Lindsay had just stayed the hell away from each other. They were like the poster children for why intra-office dating was a bad idea.

Then he shook himself. He didn't mean that. Danny and Lindsay had been great together. Really, what he wished was that Danny wasn't such a self-destructive jackass.

_**August 13**_

"Is he seriously going to do that?" Lindsay muttered, staring at the tv in disbelief.

"Obviously the lad isn't known for his quick thinkin'," Flack muttered back, reaching over to pick up his beer.

"Obviously." The player faked to the left and shot towards a hole in the defense. "Yep, he's really going to do it."

They both winced a bit as he was taken down with an elbow to the ribs. "You'd think once in a while the ref would call a foul. Just for shits and giggles," Flack said.

"I thought New Yorkers didn't believe in fouls."

Flack glanced at her distractedly, clearly not paying attention. "Come again?"

"Oh come on," Lindsay said, hiding a smirk as she turned away from the commercial. "None of your teams are—how should I put this—clean players?"

Flack's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure I like what you're implyin', Monroe."

Smiling innocently, Lindsay stood from Flack's couch and took her empty beer bottle to the kitchen. "I only speak the truth."

"No, you only speak slurs. Baseless slurs, no less," he said, his voice rising.

Recognizing the challenge building in his tone, Lindsay rolled her eyes before turning back to him. Expression still innocent, Lindsay picked up the darts from his counter and examined them casually. "Perhaps we should play for it?"

"For what?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Honor. Pride. Glory." She shrugged. "Take your pick."

Smirking, Flack stood and drained his beer. "You're on. Throw for turns."

Stepping triumphantly to the wall with the dartboard, Lindsay shook her head. "It's too easy."

"Pride goeth before the fall, Monroe," he muttered, coming up behind her.

"Oh, so now you're Catholic?" Barely putting any effort behind the throw, Lindsay landed the dart in the bulls-eye.

She turned to hand Flack one of the darts and found him frowning at the board. He waited a beat, and then, never looking at her, spoke. "Is there a game in existence that you're no good at?"

"Not really, no."

Flack sighed and looked down to step behind the line. "Great. Gimme a dart."

_**August 17**_

Danny stepped through the door of his parents' house, shrieks freezing him on the threshold; they were so blood curdling he needed to fight the urge to draw his weapon. At the noise of his entrance, Natalia appeared down the hall from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. Their eyes met, and she shook her head dismally.

"What the hell?" Danny said, shutting the door behind him and tossing his keys on the hall table. "Is everyone gettin' a little torture in before dinner?"

Natalia sighed and started to respond but was cut off as Danny's cousin Dylan came barreling down the stairs. "She won't stop cryin'," Dylan said, running a frustrated hand over his face. Catching sight of Danny, Dylan whirled on him. "You. She likes you. Follow me."

Okay, so it had to be Sophie screaming her lungs out. Danny raised an eyebrow and followed up the stairs, not really appreciating his cousin's order but too worried about Sophie to protest. Dylan wasn't exactly the most diligent of fathers, but he'd always seemed competent. And Sophie wasn't the kind of kid who'd throw a fit because she didn't get the right Barbie.

A group of Danny's cousins stood in clumps in the hallway near the doors to the bedrooms. Dylan stopped outside the doorway where the din grew almost unbearable and took a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face and stepping in the room.

"Look, Sophia. It's Cousin Danny."

Sophie merely cried harder when she saw Danny come in alone. "Want…Linny!" she managed to shriek.

The wail that left her mouth made all the adults wince and take involuntary steps back. Bravely, Danny moved forward and crouched in front of the child. "Sweetheart—" Danny tried.

"I miss her."

The statement would have been adorable if Sophie hadn't screamed it at the top of her lungs. Danny felt his heart constrict as he watched the toddler's face. The desperation emanating from her made Danny's own sense of loss clutch at his throat.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered, "Me, too."

Sophie couldn't hear him over her grief. "When's she coming?"

"She's not," he rasped. "She's not coming back. She's never coming back."

Once he started, he couldn't stop saying it, like a floodgate had opened. The dawning understanding on Sophie's face turned to horror.

"I'm so sorry, Sophie. But she's never coming back here. She can never see us again." Because that was what _had_ to happen. That had been the plan.

His mother grabbed his arm. "Daniel. You stop it," she hissed.

Startled, he raised his eyes to hers. She must have seen something there, because her face froze, the anger draining from her. Jerking his eyes away, Danny looked at Sophie again and realized what he'd done.

"Oh, God. Soph, I'm so sorry." He reached to pick her up, and she stretched her little arms out to Natalia instead, fat tears streaming down her face.

Natalia picked her up and settled the child against her in that special groove left by several dozen babies over the years. "Give me your cell phone, Daniel."

Her voice was cool, but Danny saw understanding and an odd suspicion in her eyes that made him want to shrink away. Pulling out the phone, Danny handed it to her, shame spreading through him.

When he looked up, everyone was crowded in the doorway, staring, not bothering to hide it by turning away. Everyone knew what had happened, that he'd broken up with Lindsay, so the confusion on their faces was understandable.

"Lindsay? It's Natalia."

Unable to stand the faint sound of her voice on the other end, Danny stood and pushed his way through his family. Their heavy silence followed him down the hall and out the front door. Dropping into the porch swing, Danny stared at the old chestnut tree across the street, shocked at his own lack of control.

His mind raced over all the reasons he couldn't be with Lindsay, the way he'd treated Sophie, the way he'd cut Lindsay off from his family. The four months he'd spent without Lindsay played across his mind's eye, and he found himself paralyzed. He didn't move an inch, didn't even blink, until the sound of the front door opening twenty minutes later shook him out of his stupor.

Natalia slid into the swing next to him, and Danny automatically pushed off with his foot to set the swing moving lightly. "Is Sophie all right?" he asked after a moment of silence. The words came out growling and rough, but Natalia didn't even blink.

"She spoke to Lindsay. She's fine." Danny nodded, keeping his eyes averted. "What happened, Daniel?"

His throat tightened at the compassion in her voice and he found he couldn't think of an explanation. He was just so tired of speaking in circles to throw people off the scent, even to keep Lindsay safe. It was like wearing a vise around his throat all day, every day. No one could know. He felt his mother's hand, gentle and loving, run over his short, stubbly hair, and he swallowed thickly.

"My boy," she whispered, reverting to Italian. "Why are you so unhappy?"

He let his lids flutter shut for a moment. "I'm not, Mommy."

She hated lying, had literally washed his mouth out as a child on several occasions. Now, though, she slid her hand to his shoulder and squeezed. "All right, sweetheart. You'll tell me when you're ready."

"I'm sorry."

Standing, she cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face to look at her. She smiled sadly and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. Then she pulled back and patted his cheek.

"You need a shave, Daniel."

She surprised the laugh out of him and instantly his shoulders felt lighter. "Sorry, Mommy. Not gonna happen."

Letting out a dramatic sigh, she threw up her hands. "Fine. Fine. Look like a caveman."

_**August 19**_

Lindsay looked up as Danny blew into the office. "Hey, where's the fire?"

"Just runnin' late," he muttered, tossing her a tiny smile as he collapsed into his desk chair.

Lindsay smiled back and returned her focus to her paperwork. A few seconds went by before she heard Danny clear his throat. Glancing at him, she saw his eyes skitter away from her face.

"What's up?" she asked, wondering if a remnant from lunch with Jen had followed her to the office somewhere on her face.

"Nothin'. I just—uh—I wanted to apologize."

Her heart sank like a stone. What now? "Oh?"

"For Sophie. On Sunday. I know you were workin'—"

"Danny," she cut in with a smile. "It was fine. Really. I wouldn't have answered if I'd been at a scene."

"I know," he assured her. "I know you wouldn't. I just—"

"Danny." He stopped and met her eyes. "It was fine."

His face relaxed a little. "Thanks, Linds."

"Not a problem. I miss her, too." She saw him hide a wince and hurried to cover the awkwardness. "So we made plans to go to the zoo together."

His face froze, his eyes locking on hers, a panic she couldn't decipher turning the blue irises dark as midnight. She swallowed. Oh God. He didn't want her near his family.

Heartbroken, she began to babble. "She really likes the zebras. I think because I told her they were related to horses. Really, they're more like donkeys, but she didn't seem to know the difference, so I just told her they were all related. So now she calls zebras 'striped horses'—"

She cut herself off, completely mortified. Danny's brow had furrowed and he looked thoroughly confused. She swallowed again. "You know, I have to go ask Flack something. About the case. I'm doing my report and—I'll be back."

Jumping up, she scurried into the hallway to avoid his response. She could only think of one reason he'd be worried about her spending time with his family. Well, enough worry to incite that sort of panic in an otherwise tough-as-nails cop.

He was seeing someone else, and he didn't want her to know.

It would be almost sweet, really, if it hadn't been so humiliating. If it hadn't meant that he knew she still cared for him. She'd tried so hard to hide it, to make him think she was getting over him. Just the other day she'd been bragging—_bragging_—to Jen about it.

Stepping into the elevator with a large group, Lindsay fought to control her face. She took deep breaths, noticing a few people glance at her out of the corner of their eyes.

Flack was, miraculously, at his desk when she peered through the doorway to the bullpen. Shoving through the door, she marched over to him, trying not to make eye contact with any of the other officers. She didn't think she could hold it together through pleasantries.

"Hey," she murmured when she finally stepped up next to him.

He glanced up from his report and grinned. "Hey, Monroe." She forced a smile and his faded. "What's wrong?"

Obviously, she was a horrible actress. Thank God she'd decided to become a cop. "I need to talk to you."

Nodding, he flipped the file closed and stood. "Coffee?" he asked, reaching for the jacket hanging off his chair.

She shook her head at the suggestion, and he frowned but dropped his hand. "Here," he said, steering her towards a little-used hallway that led to the storage closet where they kept office supplies for the detectives.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded, leaning close to her to avoid being overheard in the larger hallway.

At this point, she'd been waiting so long to ask, her voice came out sounding irate. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He blinked. "Tell you what?"

"About Danny."

His eyes searched hers, his brow furrowed. "Danny did what now?"

"That he's seeing someone," she hissed, mad he was still hiding it from her.

"Whoa," he said, holding up his hands. "First off, Danny's not seein' anyone to the best o' my knowledge."

Lindsay's face froze. "What?"

"And, secondly, if he was, I wouldn't tell you." She frowned, feeling lost, and Flack crossed his arms. "Linds, if he started seein' someone, it wouldn't be my place to tell anyone. Even you."

Lindsay winced and nodded. "You're right," she whispered, shame making her cheeks flush. "I'm sorry, I—"

She tried to walk away, but Flack caught her arm. "Hey," he whispered, cupping her cheek with his free hand.

He applied gentle pressure to turn her face towards him, but she kept her eyes lowered. His thumb brushed across the skin of her cheek and she heard him sigh. "He's not seein' anyone," he repeated, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head at the compassion in his voice. Now she looked like an even bigger moron than she had before. "I wish he was."

She felt Flack's confusion even though his thumb didn't pause as he continued to gently stroke her cheek. "I hate waiting for the other shoe to drop," she explained. "I'm always wondering, hoping he's not, and hating myself for hoping."

Flack swallowed and dropped his hands. "You're still in love with him."

Frustrated at the lump that filled her throat, Lindsay watched him pace away. He stayed there, turned to face the door to the storage closet for a long pause. Just as she was about to force herself to speak, his shoulders straightened and he whirled to walk back to her.

"All right, I'm gonna tell you somethin' that I really shouldn't tell you," he said, running a hand over his face.

She waited, dread coiling in her stomach until it was a hard knot. Flack cleared his throat, his eyes turning determined. "Do you remember the party I threw for the fourth?"

She nodded, the movement jerky. Yes, she remembered. She suddenly knew exactly what he was going to tell her, knew without a doubt. But she needed to hear him say the words.

"I told you it was a good thing you didn't come because Danny was there." He paused, waiting for confirmation, his eyes intently locked on hers, and she nodded. "He left with someone that night. A woman."

Her heart stopped for long breathless moments, then pounded so hard her shirt shook slightly between her breasts. Calmly, she nodded, proud she didn't flinch. "Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful for the knowledge.

Then her face crumpled.

Flack gripped her shoulders. "You are _not_ going to cry," he said firmly.

"Okay," she whimpered.

"No crying." His eyes searched hers. "I shouldn't've told ya. What am I, terminally stupid? Why did I tell you that?" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

"No, no," she said, sniffling in a deep breath. "Thank you. It's good to know."

And it was. Oh, it hurt. It hurt worse than being shot ever had. But, despite the pain, she could feel relief spreading through her.

Danny was over her in every way. He was never coming back. And now she knew for certain.

_**August 23**_

Connor stared at her from across the table, his wrists limply holding his fork and knife. "Come again?"

"I just think it's time," Lindsay said, shifting her eyes to her wine glass.

"Suddenly, just like that, you think it's time?" Connor said, his voice even and controlled. His eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she insisted, keeping her tone light. "I just think I've let this drag on long enough. He's not coming back. It's time to move on."

Setting his utensils down, Connor ran a hand through his hair. "Lindsay, that time came several months ago."

His voice was gentle, but she still winced. "I'm not saying that to be mean," he told her. "I just…I don't understand what brought this on all of a sudden."

Biting her lip, Lindsay swirled the wine in her glass for several seconds before lifting it to her mouth. Connor tilted his head to the side as he watched her. "Maybe you should slow down a bit with that."

Her eyes shot back to his as she swallowed and crinkled her brow in confusion. "That's your fourth glass in an hour," he pointed out, a half smile on his face.

Glancing at the wine glass still in her hand, Lindsay paused then shook her head. "I don't want to."

"Okay," he murmured, turning his attention back to his plate.

"Flack told me something a few days ago that…" She took a deep breath, trying to rearrange her thoughts. "He just reminded me that everyone has to move on. I have to move on. It's been four months."

"Yeah, it's been four months," Connor repeated. "But you're a Monroe. You hold on tighter than most people do. Look at Freddy."

Lindsay blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He's been stuck on the same woman for ten years. She married someone else, and he's _still_ stuck on her," Connor said, never looking up from his plate. "Then there're your parents—"

"How do you know about Freddy?" Lindsay asked incredulously

Connor glanced up and raised his eyebrows. "You told me."

"What? When?"

Sighing, Connor shook his head. "I don't remember, Mouse. The point is—"

"But I didn't tell anyone," she muttered, looking to the side with a frown.

"Night of your twenty-first birthday, Freddy spilled his guts to you in a bar," Connor told her, clearly exasperated. "Couple nights later, you ended up telling me under much the same circumstances."

Lindsay blinked. "And you remember that?"

A wave of exhaustion settled onto Connor's face. "I remember everything, Lindsay. I remember you were wearing that red sweater, the soft one with the vee neck, and those diamond earrings I bought you."

Lindsay felt her heart twist a little for the pain she heard in Connor's voice. "Connor—"

"I remember what you were wearing the night I proposed. I remember the first words you spoke to me when you came home from school that summer. I remember not being able to think about anything but how much I'd missed you." He smiled wanly. "I remember everything."

"Connor, I'm so—"

"Don't say you're sorry," he said, laughing humorlessly. "I'm not. I got to be with you for a little while and that's really all I wanted. So don't say you're sorry. I wouldn't trade any of it."

Her fingers clenched around the stem of her wine glass as she felt her breathing begin to quicken with panic. She couldn't do this with him. She couldn't sit here and tell him that she was ready to move on from Danny. It wasn't fair. Especially since she wouldn't be moving on to _him_.

But before the panic could really take hold, Connor smoothed his expression into a small smile. He didn't look happy exactly, but Lindsay could see he was content in a way.

"Monroes don't love halfway, Linds," he said, picking up his fork. "Four months isn't long enough for you to get over how you feel about Danny. You know it, and I know it. But if you feel that you need to get back out there, that's what you should do."

She'd expected encouragement and suggestions, proverbial pats on the back for her initiative. But, somehow, this was better. She no longer felt quite as much like a buffoon as she had for still being in love with a man who'd most certainly moved on.

_**August 25**_

Danny and Hawkes opened their doors but Lindsay hesitated, glancing over Danny's shoulder with a frown. He was startled when she stepped away from the car, saying, "Just a second."

Following her with his eyes, he saw her moving towards an old woman sitting on the front steps of one of the more run down houses on the block. "Hi," he heard Lindsay call as she got closer.

The woman looked up, and Danny suddenly noticed the woebegone expression on her face. Instantly, it turned to naked suspicion as Lindsay opened the gate and stepped up to her.

"What's she doing?" Hawkes asked Danny.

"No idea," he muttered.

"Are you all right?" Danny heard her ask. "Did you need some help?"

The woman hesitated and glanced down. When Lindsay unclipped her badge and held it out, the woman heaved a breath, saying something very quietly. Lindsay nodded and climbed the stairs. When she was even with the woman, she offered a hand and helped her to her feet.

The woman leaned against Lindsay, and they both disappeared into the house. Danny narrowed his eyes, beginning to tense, but Lindsay was back mere seconds later.

When she got back to the car, Hawkes jerked his head towards the house. "What was wrong?"

"Oh." Lindsay paused as they climbed in. "Her hip went out. She said it happens all the time since her surgery."

"Replacement?" Hawkes guessed.

"Yeah. One of the plastic ones or something." She glanced at Danny curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his fingers tightening around the wheel as he stared straight out the window.

"You might want to start the car," Lindsay suggested, sounding vaguely amused.

"Right. Yeah."

Reaching down, he put the car in drive, trying to shake off the vise clenching around his chest. Why did she have to be so goddamn amazing? It didn't seem fair since he was trying to be so noble and _keep her alive_.

He slammed on the brakes as they came to a red light, annoyance coursing through him. The entire situation was particularly annoying seeing as how she seemed so intent on throwing herself right back into danger by taking his baby cousin to the zoo. Which she'd be doing in a few days' time.

And it definitely wasn't fair that Sophie got to see her and he didn't. Not fair at all.

Hawkes cleared his throat from the backseat and Danny snapped out of his angry daze to find the light had turned. Stepping on the gas, Danny concentrated on weaving through traffic until they got to the precinct, Hawke's stop.

"I'll see you two back at the lab," he said in his quiet voice.

"See you," Lindsay said and Danny muttered something incomprehensible, staring straight out the windshield.

The door slammed shut and Danny immediately pulled the truck back into traffic. Sassone hadn't even resurfaced in the last few months. Danny had been paged for a couple of false alarms when suspect descriptions tripped over the feelers Johnson had been surreptitiously putting out. Nothing had ever come of it, but Danny knew Julian was out there, biding his time until he spotted Danny's soft underbelly.

"You okay?"

Jerking out of his reverie, Danny glanced to the side. Lindsay was staring out the passenger window, but, as though feeling his eyes on her, she twisted to look at him. "You okay?" she asked again.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Danny nodded. "Sure, sure I am."

"You're sure now?"

The teasing in her voice brought his eyes swinging back to hers. There was a small smile on her face, and Danny wondered how she could still be amused by him. "Sure I'm sure. What's it to ya, anyway?"

A smile flashed across her face, making his heart thud loudly. "Nothin'. Except you're driving like a maniac."

"Can it, Monroe. Here in New York, we don't let the passengers do the drivin'."

"An enlightened city," she said seriously, settling back into her seat and turning to look back out the window.

Telling himself it was a bad idea, Danny asked anyway. "So I hear you and Sophie are goin' to the zoo this weekend."

Lindsay glanced at him. "Yeah." She cleared her throat nervously. "I think your mom's coming, too."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I heard that rumor, too."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her swipe her tongue over her lips. "Does it…does it bother you?"

Feeling his shoulders tense, Danny tried to force himself to look more relaxed. "Nah, course not. Sophie adores you."

It wasn't what she'd asked, but it was as close to answering as Danny could come without breaking her heart all over again. Sassone was still out there, watching Danny for any sign of weakness and here Lindsay was paling around with his mother. Of course it bothered him.

"Of course it bothers you," she sighed.

He'd forgotten that she could read his mind. "Really, it's fine."

"I'm sorry it makes you uncomfortable," she told him.

He should've snapped at her, told her that she needed to stay away from his family considering they were no longer a couple. But he couldn't. Her eyes were so sad he felt himself leaning towards her and had to quickly pretend to be shifting in his seat.

"Lindsay, they called you," he said, more gently than he would have liked. "You didn't do anythin' wrong."

When she answered, her voice was barely a whisper. "Right."

Who the hell was he kidding? It was _his_ heart that kept breaking.

Lindsay felt like the car was closing in around her. She had to get out, but didn't think a tuck and roll at forty miles an hour was a good idea. Leaning her foreheadagainst the cool glass of the window, she shut her eyes and tried to block out any thoughts of Danny.

As they pulled into the lab garage, Lindsay concentrated on controlling her breathing. Danny couldn't see how upset she was. But even after they pulled into the parking space, she couldn't make herself move from the car.

Oddly enough, Danny didn't seem to be moving either. After several long moments of being frozen in the tension, she heard him take a deep breath. "Lindsay?" he murmured.

She looked at him, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. When his brows came together in a helpless expression, she looked down, knowing he'd seen it anyway.

"Lindsay—" he started again, stumbling to a stop when she winced.

"Please don't," she said, still not looking at him. She heard him take a deep breath, but he didn't try again.

After another few minutes, she spoke, deciding to take advantage of the already embarrassing situation. "Danny, we were always friends," she whispered.

She felt him glance at her, eyes sharp, and she looked up to catch his gaze. "Even when I couldn't be with you, we were friends. I know it's not the same, since we both had deeper feelings. But couldn't we try?" she asked quietly.

Danny's eyes closed slowly and he took another deep breath. Before he could respond negatively, she rushed on. "I promise it won't give me false hope. I know we're over. I get it."

His eyes opened and met hers, slightly softer than they had been. "Yeah," he murmured, nodding. "Yeah, we could do that."

A smile tugged at her lips, easier than the ones she'd been doling out in recent months. "Okay."

He smiled back. "Okay."

Blowing out the air she'd been holding in her lungs, Lindsay turned to open the car door. "Let's do this then."

"You want body or trace?" he asked.

She snorted. "Body. Duh."

Then she hopped out and slammed the door. Glancing back through the window, she caught his eye as he sat stock-still in his seat. Raising an eyebrow, she rapped on the glass. "C'mon, city boy. Shake a tail feather."

She spun on her heels as she heard him start to laugh. Grinning happily, she wondered if maybe everything would eventually be okay. She knew they'd never be together again, knew it like she knew the sky was blue, but maybe they'd be friends. And maybe she could live with that.

_**August 29**_

"Why did my son break up with you?" Natalia asked, her voice deceptively calm.

Lindsay's eyes jerked away from where Sophie was playing in the ball pit for a fraction of a second before seeking the toddler out again. Swallowing thickly, she managed to close her gaping mouth and moisten her lips.

"You'd have to ask him," she finally responded.

"Hmm."

Reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, Lindsay tried to stop the wave of nausea sweeping over her body. What did 'hmm' mean, anyway?

"I already tried that. Didn't get much out of him." Natalia's eyes never left Sophie's serious little face as she waded through the balls as though searching for a particular one.

"I'm sorry," Lindsay said for lack of anything else to say.

She could feel Natalia smiling gently though the women never looked at each other. "Don't be silly."

A tense silence descended upon them, and Lindsay squirmed surreptitiously on the brightly colored plastic bench. Sophie looked up from the balls, her eyes searching for and landing on Lindsay. Grinning, she waved so enthusiastically she nearly tipped over. Lindsay relaxed slightly and waved back, a smile spreading across her face.

"I tried to call you a few times," Natalia murmured.

Wincing, Lindsay nodded, remembering the unreturned voicemails about getting coffee or another cooking lesson. "I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't think Danny would appreciate me still spending time with his mother…I'm sorry."

Natalia shook her head. "That's all right. I understand. I was just beginning to wonder if…maybe…you were the one to initiate the split?"

Eyes wide, Lindsay spun to look at the other woman. "What? No. Of course not, no."

"Hmm."

Uncertain, Lindsay turned back to watching Sophie, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "The giraffes were nice today."

"Mm," Natalia murmured in non-committal agreement. "The elephants were always my favorite, though. And Sophie seemed rather fond of the zebras. I wonder why?"

Lindsay hid a smile at Natalia's perplexed tone. The other woman shrugged, accepting a toddler's inexplicable attachments.

Rubbing her temple, she abruptly sighed and admitted, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry. I just…I find it very odd that Daniel broke up with you, that's all."

Lindsay blinked, stunned by both the apology and the ache Natalia's words caused. "But why?" she asked, wondering why Danny's own mother didn't recognize his need for excitement.

"Because," Natalia said, shrugging and sounding rather sad. "You were perfect for him."

xxxxx

Anonymous Reviews:

danaa: Sorry it didn't come sooner. I was really hoping to get this up before Christmas. However, I hope you enjoyed the small bit of DL interaction there was in this chapter. There will be more!


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